


Not My Fucking Problem.

by springburn



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, love and building relationship, smut in later chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:19:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 56,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5493656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marie is concerned about her employer, she notices a worrying trend and senses that all is not well........</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Bad to Worse.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally going to be a one shot. I now have four chapters and it appears to be growing.  
> It's another different AU to previous stories. A new OC character, although Sam figures strongly.  
> I like to ring the changes when I write Malcolm, and I've done several of the family stories lately, so this one is a little different.

NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM.  
CHAPTER ONE.  
FROM BAD TO WORSE.

 

As shit weeks go, this one was the shittest.   
Is shittest a word? It is now. 

Malcolm barely knew what day it was.   
The leadership crisis hit quickly. One minute everyone was bosom buddies, the next it was   
a touch of the 'et tu, Brute?' Knives out, stabbing each other in the back.

True the latest popularity polls were disastrous, a potential election whitewash, opinion polarised, half the party in uproar, the party members voting for him, his own colleagues thinking he was unelectable.   
Fucking fuck.   
Rounds of interviews, television appearances. Out on the hustings, speeches, being seen in the right places, at the right demos, pressing the flesh.  
The fucking press were having a field day.  
Best Malcolm could do was damage limitation, but to be honest, he was flogging a dead horse.   
He knew it, but he nevertheless worked himself into the ground, to try and salvage something. 

Marie watched all this from the sidelines.   
Drafted in to help out by Sam, Malcolm's long suffering PA, an expert in economics and election strategy, she'd done this kind of thing before.  
A mid life career change.   
Here she was, watching the powerhouse that was the infamous Malcolm Tucker, famed for his foul mouth, his rants, but a reputation for getting the job done.   
What she actually saw was a workaholic, scared, lonely and unloved, except perhaps by Sam.....but with a husband and children there was only so many ways she could stretch herself. Her life was a juggling act as it was, and she really only worked as a favour to her long time employer, because he couldn't bear to break in a new secretary.   
In short, she was irreplaceable. 

Spending more time around the opposition head office, Marie soon began to learn about the phenomenon that was Malcolm.  
He didn't seem to go home. Always there before she was in the morning. Still there when she left late at night. He didn't eat much. Sam tried her best to keep him supplied with snacks and fruit, soft drinks and coffee, but Marie never actually saw him eat a proper meal.   
Nor did he seem to sleep. There was a couch in his office, a sort of plush chaise langue, she saw him stretched out on it a couple of times, with his eyes closed, but was he actually sleeping? She doubted it.   
Then she noticed something else.   
Bathroom visits.  
A mad rush passed her desk, as if pursued by the hounds of hell, ten minutes sometimes before he reappeared.   
Pallid and sweating. 

Marie was concerned. Very concerned indeed. 

It was the Friday, the Friday of the shittest week ever.  
She estimated Malcolm had been home once, maybe twice, in five days. As far as she was aware, he'd eaten nothing but snacks throughout all that time.   
On one occasion she'd entered his office to find him glugging Gaviscon, straight from the bottle. Wincing in pain.   
He'd opened his desk drawer hurriedly, and thrown the offending article out of sight, but Marie was quick, and he not quick enough.  
For a moment her eyes locked with his, but he stared her down, challenging, daring her to speak. She didn't.   
At lunchtime, and because she was now almost certain, she bought in a flask of soup she'd made herself.   
"Has Malcolm had lunch?" She enquired of Sam.   
"I took him in something twenty minutes ago, but I'm not sure he's eaten it. Why?" Sam looked up from behind her screen.   
"Oh, nothing. I just wondered." Marie kept her own counsel. 

Not ten minutes later, the expected fly past.   
Holding his jacket closed over his chest. Face taut and set, making for the gents. 

Marie glanced at Sam. She was engrossed in work. Leaving her desk, she followed in Malcolm's wake. 

She found him leaning over the sink. Heaving.   
Beads of perspiration on his forehead and top lip. Clearly in a great deal of discomfort.   
His eyes blazed as he turned and saw her regarding him, her face full of concern.

"What the fuck? This is the gents! Get the fuck out!" He managed to splutter out, before returning his head to the basin and retching again.   
Marie came behind him, a hand on his shoulder.   
"How long?" She asked, ignoring his protestations.   
"I've fucking eaten something off, that's all!" He replied through gritted teeth.   
She smiled.  
"Yeah.....see this face?" She pointed to herself. "Not a fuckwit! Quite bright actually. I was a nurse. And I asked, how long?"   
"How long is a piece of string." He barked, his hands clutching the side of the enamel, the knuckles white.   
"Let's get your jacket off." She moved towards him, but he batted her away defensively.   
"Fuck off, I'm fine!"   
That was enough.   
Marie took him firmly by the shoulders, turned him to face her, vomit on his chin, pushed his jacket off his shoulders, pulling the sleeves, removing it in one fluid motion, before folding it and placing it to one side.  
Malcolm turned back to the sink as a fresh wave of nausea hit him. He was drenched in sweat. His shirt clinging to his back.   
Suddenly he felt something cold, on the back of his neck. A flannel, cool and soothing. Held there by her competent hand. A seat pulled up behind him.  
"Sit!" She ordered, still holding the cool terry cloth in place.   
She bent down, taking his hand in hers, bringing it up behind his own neck.  
"Hold this here. And don't move!"   
A water siphon stood in the corner of the gents toilet. Flipping the lock to prevent anyone else entering, she filled a small paper cup and handed it to him, along with a clean tissue from her sleeve.  
"Here! Sip this. And wipe your chin." Her voice was firm, but kindly.   
He did as he was told.   
Taking the flannel, she wetted it again under the cold tap. Squeezed it out, then, bending down at the knee in front of him, she wiped his perspiration soaked face.   
To her surprise, he closed his eyes, and let out a sigh. Leaning into her slightly, head inclined.   
"You're exhausted. And ill. You need to go home, and rest. And eat something."  
He laughed, a sudden, hollow laugh, that echoed around the tiled walls. 

Marie took out her phone.   
Dialled. Spoke. All the time Malcolm watched her. Unable or unwilling to comment.   
With a matronly air, she retrieved his jacket, holding it up for him, so that he could put his arms into the sleeves.   
Settling the fabric across his shoulders, she brushed an imaginary piece of fluff from the lapel, then pulled the sides of the jacket across the front of his chest.  
"This fitted you once." She said coldly.  
Before he could come up with a riposte, she continued.  
"Taxi's on its way. Sam's in charge. I'm taking you home."   
Malcolm's mouth opened, then closed.....then opened again.   
"Fuck off! Who the hell do you think you are? I'm not going anywhere. I'm fine now.....it was something I ate......I told you!"   
"And I told you! I'm not one of your single celled amoebas who work here. You are not staying here a moment longer. You are going home, you are going to eat something I've made, then you are going to go to bed and sleep. And when you wake up, you are going to eat again, and I am staying with you to make sure you do as you're told.....and thank you for inviting me, I'd love to stay in your home!" As she spoke, Marie unlocked the lavatory door and piloted Malcolm out into the hallway and along the corridor.   
Protesting all the way, swearing and cursing.   
Sam met them half way down, with his overcoat in her hands. She helped him into it, placed his Paul Smith scarf around his neck, and looked at him fondly.  
"Just this once Malcolm, accept the help that's offered you. Do as you are told. Please. If not for yourself, then for me. I'm worried about you."   
"Cab's here!" Marie announced, with finality.  
Malcolm turned, looked at the stern faces of the two women, and decided it wasn't a fight he could win.   
"Fuck the pair of you!" He exploded, then meekly allowed himself to be led to the door and into the waiting car.


	2. From Worse to Worse Still.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is being an idiot......no change there then.....!

CHAPTER TWO  
FROM WORSE TO WORSE STILL.

Key in the front door. A rather nice house, Victorian, a semi, bay windows, 1930's style glass over the porch door.   
Fairly posh area.   
"Lovely!" Marie smiled as she followed him inside. "And yet you spend hardly any time here."   
"You don't need to stay. I'll be fine now." He turned, his face severe. Blocking her path across the hallway.   
"You really do think I'm an idiot don't you?" She replied, pushing passed him.   
Heading in what she hoped was the direction of the kitchen.   
He huffed, hands held out at the sides in exasperation, trailing behind her.  
"Soup bowls? Spoons?" She enquired, turning to him.   
"Cupboard above your head." He pointed a bony finger, then took two spoons from a drawer.  
Taking a large thermos flask from her bag, she poured out two portions.   
"Here!" She said, handing him the dish and gesturing him to sit. "It's home made, it's full of good things, and you need to eat little and often. Otherwise you'll be sick again."   
"Have you any bread?" He sniffed the bowl appreciatively.   
"I have, but too much will bloat you out, I'd stick to just the soup if I were you." Nodding slightly, he took a first taste.   
It was superb.   
"Okay?" She asked, eyebrows raised.   
"It's good." He murmured.   
"Take your time! Bolting it will make you nauseous too.....you need to retrain your stomach. It wouldn't surprise me if you have the beginnings of an ulcer. The way you abuse yourself. You need taking in hand, Malcolm Tucker."   
At that statement, he raised his eyes to her, but the look was soft, almost childlike.   
Marie's own stomach gave a sudden lurch.   
"Fuck you!" He replied acidly, as he scraped the dregs from the bowl.   
"And you too! With knobs on!" She spat back in reply.   
"You're not my fucking mother, nor my doctor, I can take care of myself. I don't need a fucking babysitter."  
"Said the man who regularly has his head in the sink!" She laughed, sarcastically. "And who drinks Gaviscon like it's milkshake. Don't think I hadn't noticed! And who is frequently in pain, and I'm guessing has heartburn like his insides are on fire. Mmmm! Doing a great job so far! Twat!"   
He shot her an amused glance at the last word, but made no comment.   
Pushing the empty plate away, he rose, the chair scraping across the tiled floor.   
"Look, I appreciate this......I do......I know you mean well, but........" He began.  
"Have you a supermarket nearby?" She cut him off in mid sentence.  
"Yes, but....."   
"Good! I'll go and buy some groceries, I suggest you have a warm bath, to relax you, then bed. I'll go shopping while you soak."   
"I'm not......I don't want........" Malcolm's face looked desolate.....relinquishing control like this was not in his remit.  
"I'll need your key, so I can get back in. I won't be gone more than half and hour. And I'm taking your phone and your blackberry. Sam will ring me on my mobile if there's a major shit storm."   
Malcolm's eyes widened, he was horrified.   
"Oh no you're fucking well not! The idea! Coming into my house.....fucking ordering me about, now you're taking my toys away.....it'll be the naughty step next! Like I'm some fucking wank stain eight year old!"   
Marie gave him a pitying look.   
"Stop fucking acting like one then! Yes!" She barked, as his face registered surprise, "I can swear too! It's extremely clever. Now go and run yourself a nice warm bath. I'll pop to the shops. I'll be back in a bit."   
She snatched the bunch of keys from the counter where he'd left them, and took her coat and bag, his phone and blackberry from his coat pocket, and was out of the front door before he had time to even react. 

oOo

If the truth be known Malcolm was relieved.   
Not, necessarily because all this had happened, but because Marie had thought he may have the beginnings of a stomach ulcer.   
Most people would not have been over chuffed to hear this news, but Malcolm almost was.  
The reason?  
He hadn't felt well for a while, longer than he cared to admit. Going to the Doctor had not been an option. He'd managed to find plenty of excuses not to go. Too busy, no time, a myriad of really solid reasons, but the main one could not be avoided. He was shit scared.   
Everything his body had been feeling these last months, led him to suspect he had cancer.   
His father died of it. Son going the same way. That's what he'd thought, he didn't particularly want to die, but he couldn't bring himself to face the possible truth. If he left it, it would go away, that was his thinking. Kidding himself.   
Now he'd been told this.......given an alternative explanation, it gave him hope, another chance, and his mind was crying out in gratitude. 

He lowered himself into the warm water, bubbles surrounding him.   
When was the last time he'd allowed himself this luxury?   
To relax in a bubble bath......masculine fragrance of course! He sank deeper, closed his eyes.  
Let out a long breath. 

It wasn't long before he heard the click of his front door.   
This woman was the most bizarre female he'd ever come across.   
She was a couple of years younger than himself he guessed. A divorcee, with grown up children.   
She looked younger than she was, smart, both in dress and in brain.   
Attractive too, although he hadn't really paid much attention......or had he?   
Unconsciously maybe. 

He dried himself off, slipped on a bathrobe.  
A slight tap on the door.  
"You decent in there?"  
"For fucks sake woman! Yes! I'm coming out!" He emerged, fresh and pink and shiny.   
She was standing on the landing, a steaming cup in her hands.   
"What's this?" He turned his nose up.  
"Don't look so stricken! It's not arsenic! It's herbal tea. It'll help to settle your stomach. Hopefully make sure you keep the soup down. I'll cook something while you sleep, nothing too spicy or strong flavoured.....bland is best, at first anyway.   
Your guts probably never really know what's hit them. It's time to take care of yourself, Malcolm, before it's too late!"   
With that she handed him the cup and turned away.   
"Marie?" She spun round as she reached the top of the stairs.  
"Thanks for this!" He gestured vaguely around himself.   
"No worries. Now go to bed, get some rest. I'll wake you later. Providing you don't mind me entering your inner sanctum?" She waited for his reply, foot poised on the top step.  
"I guess not. You've fucking invaded every other aspect of my life......why not my bedroom?"   
"Sleep! Go! Now! " She smiled, and tripped off down the stairs, lightly. 

oOo

The combination of warm water and the tea, transpired to make Malcolm feel as if he were entering a vegetative state.   
His head hit the pillow. He was gone. Days of wakefulness caught up with him.   
He slept the sleep of the dead. Dreamless, and completely restorative. 

Marie idly browsed his living room.   
Rows and rows of shelves.   
Hundreds of books and DVD's. She smiled at his taste.   
John Le Carré, Steinbeck, Hemingway, Dickens, Dostoevsky.....blimey! And, more surprisingly.....Wuthering Heights. Who'd a thunk? She tried to picture him, dark and swarthy, striding across the Moors....."Cathy! Heathcliff!"........nah! Too much of a stretch!   
Hammer Horror films, B Movies, action thrillers, spies and espionage, Shawshank, There will be Blood and a collection of old black and whites, an eclectic mix, topped off with a Star Wars box set!  
Not many photographs. One of a small boy and girl, not his, she guessed, although she'd spotted he wore a gold band on his wedding finger, but a familial resemblance.  
Nephew and niece perhaps?  
A couple of old sepia's, faded, parents maybe, two young children, she surmised might be himself and a female sibling.   
Some nice artwork on the walls, no prints, all the real McCoy. A couple of ornamental sculpture like pieces, very tasteful. A well equipped kitchen, did he cook? He never seemed to eat, but she mused that he might enjoy food preparation. Some classy wine in the rack, Italian reds, French whites, there was a bottle open in the fridge. Finding a glass she poured some, and sipped, light Frascati, nice.   
Marie settled herself down to watch some television. 

What was she really doing here?   
The imposition! The rudeness! She'd never done anything like this before in her entire life.   
How had she even pulled it off? He could quite easily have told her to get the hell out.   
Well, he kinda had, but she'd ignored him.   
He hadn't really been very forceful. Had he wanted someone to do this? Just take over, tell him what to do?   
Stand up to him. Make him take notice, tell him what a fool he was being. Make him see.   
Did he even like her? 

What did she feel about him?   
A tough one......because she wasn't really sure. Well, actually, she was.....certain.   
She noticed him right from the start, he was difficult to ignore.   
A tour de force.   
But now that she was actually considering it, what did she really think about him?   
There was something about him wasn't there? Something very attractive indeed.....it wasn't the prickly unapproachable persona exactly, or the arresting way he held himself, his slim physique, his height. It certainly was not those, frankly, beautiful eyes, that pierced the soul, nor the salt and pepper hair that did its own thing in a most alluring way. Nothing whatever to do with his artistic, expressive hands, with their long delicate fingers, manicured nails, or the way he used them when he spoke. Definitely not that Scots burr, that strengthened when he was angry, and made a shiver go down your spine.   
Nope. None of those things. 

Marie flicked channels for a while. Then made her way into the kitchen and began preparing food.   
She went for light. Chicken, with noodles, in a tasty broth, with vegetables. Soon delicious smells were wafting down the hallway.   
It had remained very quiet upstairs, and Marie did not disturb the sleeper for some hours. Eventually, when he did not reappear, she went to wake him. 

Curtains drawn across, she could barely see him, in the gloom, until she switched on the light on the landing, she tapped on his door but there was no reply, so she entered cautiously. 

His bed was enormous. Dark sheets. Black, or very dark blue. He was sprawled in the centre, on his back, one arm thrown up behind his head, the other hand resting on the outside of the coverlet, at his side. Apparently still deeply asleep.   
His face, illuminated through the open door, looked more relaxed than she had ever seen it.   
Moving closer, she was struck by his features.   
He was really rather handsome.   
The angry eyebrows that could eviscerate at ten paces, were smooth and at ease. The stern mouth slightly tipped up at the corners, giving him the air of being at peace. Beaky nose, rather a Roman profile, that gave his face a sharpness, that belied his expression now. Cheeks, although a little too hollow and sunken, looked less pale and wan than they had earlier that day.   
"Malcolm?" She whispered softly. "Malcolm? It's time to eat something. Wake up."   
He stirred, stretching himself like a cat. Smacking his lips, then his tongue darting out to wet them, as he opened his eyes slowly.   
"Time is it?" He yawned.   
"Seven. Time to eat."   
His stomach growled in reply, as he sat up, rubbing a hand across his face.   
"Your tummy agrees with me!" She smiled.   
"I'll go. Leave you to it. See you downstairs." She turned to go, but hesitated, as he swung his legs out of the bed.   
Dressed in just a t-shirt and cotton boxers, muscular legs, not particularly hairy, big feet, she mused.   
He followed her gaze, as it moved upwards, starting at the floor, and their eyes met momentarily.   
Marie looked away hurriedly, but Malcolm smirked slightly and scratched his belly nonchalantly.   
"I'm hungry!" He announced. "And something smells good." 

Over dinner she tried to explain some 'how to help my poorly stomach' ground rules. It was like talking to a three year old.  
Eat little and often, and not before going to bed. Avoid spicy, highly flavoured food, citrus and other acids, fizzy drinks.....and coffee. Green tea is preferable. As the list went on, Malcolm's face contorted into a scowl.   
"Basically live on tasteless slops then! What the fucks the point? I might as well be dead. Takes all the fucking pleasure out of living!"   
"It's just guidelines Malcolm! Try to be a grown up. You don't have to eat nothing but Complan, but you do need to be a bit careful. Being sick all the time brings stomach acid into your oesophagus, it burns, and destroys the natural lining, you'll bugger up your whole digestive tract. You just can't go on the way you are. You're killing yourself. And I, for one, would prefer it if you didn't do that."   
"Why should you care? Why are you even here? I don't get it?" He finished his food and sat back in the chair, arms folded across his chest.   
"Well, someone had to do something. I've watched you head off to the gents more times than I like to remember. I knew something was up. You're rubbish at hiding anything, anyway. It was written all over your face. So I made my mind up, I'd tackle you about it. See if you'd let me help you."  
"Turn me into some kind of little project, you mean. Let's save poor old Malcolm from himself. Let's be a bloody do gooder."  
The slap that went across his face, was sharp and unexpected. It wasn't particularly painful, but it was enough to sting.   
Marie stood up.   
"Sam said you could be a cunt sometimes." She seethed. "And yep, guess what? She was right."  
She reached for her bag and coat.   
"You know what Malcolm? Stupidly, I actually bloody cared about you. I actually kidded myself that underneath all that bullshit, you were a really nice guy. I looked at you and thought you were scared.....shit scared, and alone......and before you accuse me.....no! I didn't feel sorry for you......I just thought you deserved something better, and I could see you were ill. You were destroying yourself, and that seemed a hell of a waste."  
She headed towards the door. Malcolm followed her into the hall, sullen and morose.  
"I knew you'd never fall for the soft approach, you'd see through it straight away, so I decided on the gung ho, 'fucking do as you're told' idea, because I thought it might just shock you into reality. It seems it backfired. Hey! So shoot me! If you choose to see it as me trying to make you into my guinea pig, that's your affair. Nothing could have been further from my mind. And you know what? You ARE scared! You're so fucking scared you're almost shitting yourself. And you've got no one. No one to even hug you and say 'it's gonna be okay'. And until you get your head out from up your own arse, that's how you're gonna stay. So good luck with that! I'll see you in the office on Monday. Oh, and while we're at it, fuck you!"   
The street door slammed behind her, leaving him standing alone, in the darkened passageway.   
"Shit!" He groaned.


	3. From Worse Still to Ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is going into meltdown.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of positive comments on this story.....so thank you all, glad you're enjoying it. This is a Malcolm in crisis.....it's not going away overnight!

CHAPTER THREE.  
FROM WORSE STILL TO RIDICULOUS.

On Monday morning Malcolm was up before the birds.   
He marched into his office at nine, straight from the BBC radio four Today programme, where our magnificent Leader of the Opposition had just been grilled to within an inch of his life by Jim Naughtie.   
In the foulest of moods, and with a pain in his gut.....a pain which he hadn't felt over the weekend, but was now back with a vengeance.  
Mobile fastened to one ear as he yelled into it.  
"No! I'm fucking apoplectic! Why? Because I fucking briefed him, that's why! I foresaw these questions! I TOLD the stupid little prick what to say. We are not cancelling Trident! Yes I KNOW, that's what he SOUNDED like he was saying. But the big bad nasty interviewer twisted it. It's not in our fucking manifesto! It's just his own barmy idea. Now half the country thinks he's going to disband the army and leave us defenceless! The shittest week has just gone into a second shittest week."   
Marie was sitting on Sam's desk. The two deep in conversation. Their talk ended abruptly as Malcolm sailed in.   
He glared at the two of them as he pocketed his phone, Sam shot him a look that could freeze lava at fifty paces.   
"What the fuck's wrong with you two? Lost a tenner?" He spat.   
Sam said nothing, but her expression turned to one of deep hurt. She couldn't remember Malcolm ever speaking to her like that, not once, not in all the years they'd worked together.   
Her silence spoke volumes. Malcolm immediately regretted his words.   
Fuck, but his stomach was killing him, a dull persistent ache. He'd eaten nothing, but he felt sick. 

It was time.   
Things needed saying. The last few months had been like nothing she'd experienced previously.   
And Sam could remember it all, the rises, the falls. The euphoria, the despair. But it had never been like this.   
She didn't know this man anymore. 

She rose, came around the desk and followed Malcolm into his office, closing the door behind her quietly.   
Slumped in his chair, head resting on one hand. Nine in the morning, after a weekend of rest, and he looked haggard.   
"Malcolm? I need to talk to you."  
He lifted his eyes, but shied away from directly meeting hers.   
"I can't talk now Sam. I've got the press pack descending on me in half an hour, and I have to find something to say to them that doesn't sound like I've got my balls trapped in a vice."  
She moved forwards a couple of steps, and laid an envelope on the table.   
Malcolm's eyes darted to it, then up to her face.  
"What the fuck is this?" There was fear in his fixed stare.  
"It's my resignation Malcolm. I wrote it some time ago, but didn't give it. Now it's time. I'm giving you a months notice, two if you need it, to find a suitable replacement."   
Sam stepped back.   
A look of betrayal swept across his features. His anger boiled.   
"Oh, so that's it is it? Just like that? Well thank you very fucking much. Perfect fucking timing!"   
His voice raised, he threw the envelope back at her, viciously.   
Standing her ground, Sam did not flinch under the onslaught, as he began to pace, flinging his arms about, pointing and gesticulating, shouting and ranting.  
"Rats leaving the sinking ship eh? Fuck me! I thought we were friends! And this is what you do to me! First sign of something you can't handle, and you're gone! How fucking selfish is that? I thought better of you, but I see you're just like all the rest, and I don't really know you at all....."  
Tears coursed down Sam's face, as she stared, unblinking, into the middle distance, listening to the tirade as it hit her like nuclear fallout. Shredding skin from bone, peeling it back, exposing every raw nerve.   
Malcolm stopped mid sentence and wheeled to face her, his cheeks flushed, sweating profusely, the vein in his temple pulsing.  
"All these fucking years! Count for nothing?.......You were a lowly bloody secretary when you came to me. Straight out of Uni. Cradle marks still on your arse, you could have become a 'sit on my desk in a short skirt and bat your eyelids girl', but I saw you could be half way decent, I made you what you are! I saw your potential. Knew you were different, the best. Now, you're chucking all that back in my face........"  
She interrupted him, her hands in fists at her sides, she cut him off, speaking quietly, her tone dull, her voice even and tempered.

"Just listen to yourself."

His mouth opened to speak again, but no sound came out.

"I don't even know you anymore Malcolm." She continued, her voice trembling, but resolute.

"I can't do this anymore. Not the way you do it. You're bitter and vicious and unkind. As you've never been before, not to me. You're sad and lonely and ill. And it breaks my heart. But I can't stand by and watch it each day. I have a husband and a family, they have to come first. When I agreed to come back and work for you, it was under the condition that if it got too much, then I'd stop, if it threatened my family, then it ends. And it does, it is........  
I go home at night Malcolm, and I'm miserable. My children don't want a mummy who snaps at them when she hasn't seen them all day, my husband doesn't want a wife that's more worried about her employer than she is about him.   
So I quit.   
I'm not going to stand by and watch you slowly destroying yourself, being consumed by this stupid fucking job. Take my advice, Malcolm, for what it's worth......walk away!  
Walk away while you still have legs to walk on. Before you collapse under the weight of it all."

Sam backed away, and made to leave the room. She couldn't say anymore, because she was so close to breaking down. It was the last thing she wanted to do. 

"Is this because of what happened with Marie?" He cried, as a parting shot. "You two making me your pet project? Let's save Malcolm from himself? And now because you know you've lost, you're throwing in the fucking towel? Is that it......eh? EH?"

At the door, Sam turned, her face filled with pity, mouth twitching as she fought for control.

"Do it Malcolm. Before it's too late."

Then she was gone. 

oOo

Sam made it back to her desk, her hand clamped across her mouth, before the emotion spilled over and she could hold it back no longer.  
Marie took her into the ladies.  
Hugged her and let her sob.  
"Don't give up on him......please Marie! Promise me! He needs someone so badly. All the things he said......he doesn't mean them, he's just hurting, and he lashes out."  
"It's a defence mechanism, I know!" She replied, with genuine kindness.   
"He's got no one! He hardly ever sees his sister, she lives in Scotland. His mother passed away last year. There's no one else, and he needs something......you know what he reminds me of? I keep thinking about it.....can't get it out of my head......"  
Marie looked at her friend quizzically.  
"You'll think I'm nuts......Gerda and Kai.......Hans Christian Andersen. That piece of the mirror in his eye, slowly turning his heart to stone. The Snow Queen. I read it as a child, it affected me profoundly, now I look at him, and that's what I see......oh Marie......please be there for him......I'm afraid for him when I leave.......but I can't stay anymore, I'll lose my marriage if I do. John is sick of it......and to be honest, so am I. I have to go......I have to." 

oOo

Malcolm laid his head down on the desk. His hands on either side.  
The cool leather against his face.   
He was due to face the press in less than fifteen minutes. Nothing prepared. He'd just have to wing it.  
Been done before, could be done again.  
The pain in his stomach was a raging inferno. He gripped a fist against his sternum, in a futile effort to quell it.   
A swig of Gaviscon took the edge off, but only to render it just bearable.

Things actually were falling down around his ears.   
This was truly happening. It was real. It was not something he could fix with a phone call to an old contact. No pulling of strings would make this go away.   
He gathered together his papers, tucking them under one arm.   
Took two or three deep breaths, which hurt like fuck.   
Marched out of his office and down to the press room.   
Both women were absent. Just as well. He had no words for either of them right now.  
He'd be lucky if he got through the next half an hour, that was all he could focus on.   
Standing at the podium, flash bulbs blinding him, a rabbit in the headlights.  
The questions came thick and fast. Probing, direct, accusative. Malcolm thought idly, that this must be what it felt like to be fucked up the arse.   
It's how he imagined it would be, eyewateringly intense, and possibly painful!   
His back was drenched in sweat, shirt clinging uncomfortably, under his jacket. He must stink of B.O. he mused. The antacid was failing him miserably, the ache in his gut was causing his breath to come in sharp pants. Unable to take a good lungful.   
Watching on the office screen, Marie could see his drained face, bleached of all colour, his damp forehead shining under the lights. 

She turned to Sam, who was also watching, mesmerised, unable to draw her gaze away, still sniffling.  
"Oh my God! Look at him!" She whispered. "He looks so ill."   
"Do you know his GP?" Marie asked, an idea forming in her mind.   
"Of course! I have all his details, credit cards, passwords, medical, everything, he trusts me. I even helped him when his divorce was going through."   
"His divorce? I noticed the ring."   
Sam smiled, despite her tears.  
"He wears it to remind himself......never to let himself be taken in again! It's another piece of his armour. His ex wife was awful.......he handled it brilliantly actually. Even though I say so myself. She was seeing someone else, several people, he didn't know, of course. Hurt him really badly. Fingers burned!"   
"Ha!" Marie laughed sarcastically, "Been there, done that, got the bloody t-shirt!"   
"Really?" Sam, touched her hand. "Malcolm just gave in to every demand. Said yes to everything. Didn't dispute, didn't fight. Just wanted her out of his life whatever the cost. It broke him. It was ages before he got over it."  
"Know the feeling! It damages you. My fuckwit of a husband was banging his secretary. While I was expecting our second. Bastard. He hardly sees his kids now. Lives in the States."  
"I'm sorry Marie. Really I am." Sam reached in her desk for a brown file, and flicked through it.  
"Give me his GP's number. I'm making him an appointment. I may have to physically drag him there. But if he doesn't get help soon, it's going to be really serious. If he tells me to fuck off, I'll just have to clump him one!"   
She reached for the phone, and dialled.


	4. From Ridiculous to Slightly Better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie isn't giving up on Malcolm.....

CHAPTER FOUR  
FROM RIDICULOUS TO SLIGHTLY BETTER.

How Malcolm made it back to the office he wasn't quite sure.  
The pain was so severe now that he couldn't straighten himself up. Bent almost double, he stumbled down the corridor.  
Sam's desk area was deserted and he was relieved, he shut his door behind him, took another hefty glug of antacid, kicked off his shoes, divested himself of his damp jacket, flinging it over the back of his chair, and lay down on his couch, with a grateful sigh.   
Stretching out was agony, so he curled up, bringing his knees up towards his body, on his side in the foetal position. His hands tucked in close to his chest. Closing his eyes he made a feeble attempt to breathe in and out gently, to lessen the pain, it really didn't work, and a whimper escaped him, that he was unable to hold in.   
So consumed was he with these efforts, that he didn't hear the door open.  
"Malcolm? You there?" Marie entered with a mug of green tea.   
He gave an eye roll.  
"OH! GAAAAAD! FUCK THE HELL OFF! For crying out loud!" He growled.   
She crossed the room and stood looking down at him.   
"Pain really bad huh?" She ventured.   
"Whatever gave you that idea? I'm fucking perfect, never better." He groaned as another wave hit him.   
"Ahhhh! Fuck!"   
She pulled his desk chair over to the couch side, and sat down, bending until her face was close to his.   
"Drink this. It'll help the pain settle." She proffered him the cup.  
"I hate that shit. It tastes wank!" He screwed up his nose.  
"Oh just fucking drink it you tosser! Then go home. You're in no fit state to be at work. The place won't crumble and fall. It'll still be here......full of wankers, waiting for you to save them all. Fuck them, your health comes first. Go home. Rest up, and the car will pick you up at eight thirty tomorrow morning." He took the cup from her reluctantly. Then did a double take.   
"Car? What car?" He took a sip, and swallowed, with a grimace.  
"The car to take you to your Doctor's appointment. And......" She held up her hand to silence any protest he might be about to make, "Before you start with the boring shouting and swearing, don't bother. There are no new words you can come up with that will make an 'apporth of difference. I've heard them all before. Your appointment is at nine. Doctor Sajeed is expecting you. Do I need to show up with the car to make sure you go, or can I trust you not to be a dick?"  
Malcolm exploded. Despite his pain.  
"What the fuck? Now you've rung my GP? What the fuck is it with you? Are you mental? You don't know Jackie fucking Chan about me! Are you some kind of bunny boiling stalker? Some looney bitch who inveigles their way into a person's life, under a guise of caring, then takes all their money and buries them under the fucking floorboards?"   
Marie laughed heartily.  
"You're fucking priceless! You know that Malcolm! Right.....since I don't trust you as far as I can fling you, I'll be there on your doorstep and I will accompany you to the surgery. Call it moral support. Call it what you like, I give no fucks! If you're really nice to me I might even treat you to breakfast afterwards. Now drink that tea, and get yourself off home and rest. And I'll see you tomorrow, bright eyed and bushy tailed!"   
Marie pushed the wheeled chair backwards, away from him, and rose to leave.   
"I dislike you intently, you know that!" Malcolm retorted, draining the mug.  
"Jolly good! And you get on my tits, with your ridiculous stubbornness, so that makes us even! See you in the morning!" She smiled cheerfully.

 

oOo

Dark circles round his eyes told Marie that Malcolm had slept very little.   
"You look bloody awful!" She remarked, as he got into the car.   
"Thanks! Good morning to you to! For the record, I feel like shit!" He was a bag of nerves, she could tell. Pale and wan, and very tetchy.  
Once at the surgery, he sat with his arms folded high across his chest, defence mode, his left leg jiggling constantly.   
"Malcolm, calm down, you are so tense. You'll be okay!" He refused to look at her, knee still bouncing up and down, until she put her hand on his thigh, with a gentle pressure.  
"Stop!" She whispered, "It'll soon be over. It won't be as bad as you think. It never is."  
"Mr Tucker. Room Four." An intercom announcement rang through the Waiting Room.  
Malcolm let out a puff of air, and stood, straightening his tie with trembling fingers.   
"Wish me luck!" He said, through gritted teeth. His body language looking as if he wanted to run a mile. Daniel into the lions den.   
Marie smiled encouragingly and he walked purposefully towards the room indicated. 

He was gone sometime.   
Marie became nervous herself, usually so positive and upbeat, even she began to harbour doubt as the minutes ticked by.   
Eventually he re-emerged and came to join her. She tried to gauge his face, but it was difficult, it was a mask. Expressionless, hard to read.   
"Well?" She asked, peering at him, threading her arm through his. "What did he say?"   
"Let's get out of here." He responded dully, "Are we still on for that breakfast? I need something, I feel sick, and I'm light headed."   
She held his arm a little tighter, pulling him into her side, as they reached the kerb.   
"Sure thing. We'll be there in a jiffy." Freeing her hold, she put her fingers into her mouth and let out a piercing whistle, hailing a passing taxi......'just like a fucking sailor on shore leave', Malcolm thought, but could not suppress a hint of admiration.   
Moments later they were in the barista cafe, sitting opposite each other in a booth.   
"I don't know what to order. I've no fucking clue with this." Malcolm rubbed his face with one hand and looked desolate.   
"I'll order for you, don't fret, you'll get the hang of it.....and you'll start to feel better......honestly, you will."   
A weak, milky coffee, porridge and two poached eggs on toast, for both of them, were soon ordered and on their way.   
"Well, are you going to tell me what the Doctor said, or not?" She leaned forward, placing her hand over his, she could feel the tremor there, he looked down at it, as if hand holding were a completely alien concept.   
"He's given me PPI's to take." He began, with a sigh. "He did explain how they worked, but I don't think I took it in."  
"It stands for Proton Pump Inhibitors, basically it inhibits the production of stomach acid. You should find it has an effect pretty quickly. What else?" Her thumb traced the back of his hand soothingly and he continued to watch it intently.   
"He said if I didn't feel any benefit I'd have to go into Day Hospital and do one of those swallow thingies. Where you drink stuff and they take pictures as it goes down."   
"A Barium Meal. But you won't need it unless the PPI's aren't doing anything?" She asked.   
"I guess." His demeanour seemed so defeated, and he looked so lost, Marie was in serious danger of feeling sorry for him.   
"Did he mention diet?" She prompted.  
"Yeah. Said all the things you said. Little and often, change the way I eat and what I eat. Stay away from certain stuff.....he's given me a fucking chart." Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he retrieved a sheet of A4. Opening it and spreading it out, then turning it so she could see.   
She scanned it for a few seconds and nodded confidently.   
"This isn't so bad! It's just common sense really. You can still have the things you like, but just not all the time, you'll have to take it easy, especially at first. But it's doable Malcolm, and if it makes you feel better......"  
Their food arrived and they ate in silence.   
"I'm going into the office after this." He stated, matter of factly.   
"Okay. But I thought you'd taken the day off?" Marie sat back in her seat.   
"Yeah, well. You know me, can't stay away! Anyway, I need to see about the Autumn Budget statement response. It won't do itself." He pushed his empty plate away.   
"As long as you don't throw yourself straight into a three day marathon, and go back to your old routine. You need to give your body time to recover Malcolm, you need to take it a bit easy. You're ill and it won't go away overnight. PPI's aren't a miracle cure."  
"There you go again! Telling me what to do! Being my fucking nurse maid."  
"Someone needs to! Clearly you are incapable of rationality when it comes to yourself."   
Malcolm frowned a little, then backtracked. He really didn't have the stomach for a fight.   
Literally.   
"Thanks for coming with me. Guess I wouldn't have gone if you weren't there." He said, finally, climbing down from his high horse.   
"I'm pleased to help, Malcolm. Anytime. Just take care, yeah? Or I'll have Sam to answer to, and she's far more formidable than you!"


	5. Apology.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm says sorry, and is invited out.......

CHAPTER FIVE.  
APOLOGY.

Once in his office, he avoided Sam's pointed looks.  
Earlier that morning his PA had been the recipient of a very large and beautiful bouquet of flowers.  
A card with a single word accompanied them.

_"Sorry. M. xx."_

He hung his coat on the rack and closed his door behind him with a sigh.  
Fuck it all.  
Sam entered only seconds behind him. He was immediately enveloped in a tight hug, before he had time to even register what was happening.  
She held him very close, he could feel her hair against his face. Smell her perfume.  
When she pulled away her eyes were glistening.  
"Thanks, Malcolm!" She said softly.  
"You got them then?" He replied, peeling her arms away from him and backing off.  
Sam smoothed her rumpled clothes, but stayed close, still in his personal space.  
"I did." She touched the lapel of his jacket, fingering it lightly. "I know you didn't mean what you said. But it still hurt Malcolm. I thought we knew each other better."  
He sighed, stepping back once more.  
"Sam.....I've said I'm sorry. Can we forget it? I was angry, you've never really interfered in my personal life before, unless I asked, and I resented the intrusion. I apologise for that."  
"I forgive you. But it needed to be done. You are on a self destruct course, and it's painful to witness. My advice still stands. Walk away Malcolm. While you still can."  
Her proximity made him uncomfortable, he fidgeted nervously.  
"This resignation of yours.....it's the worst possible time. So much going on, I need my wing man. I need you to have my back. If you've forgiven me, does that mean you'll reconsider?"  
She touched his cheek, and he flinched.  
"No! I won't. I'm going. I've had enough, Malcolm. I don't want to do this anymore. I want my life back.....I love John, I love my kids, and this job is poisoning that. It has to stop. I'm sorry but that's the way it is."  
Malcolm reversed away from her rapidly, almost stumbling, and turned away. Shoulders slumped.  
Again, she followed him, her hand on his back lightly, just between the shoulder blades.  
"Other PA's can do the job as well as I, you'll find someone. But I need you to promise me something." He turned his head towards her.  
"I don't make promises. Not any more. And not to you." His voice was hard as flint.  
She ignored him.  
"I want you to promise me you'll take better care of yourself. I hate seeing you like this. You look tired. You look ill. I hardly know you. I know you think Marie is a pain, but she is a genuinely good and caring person, with a heart of gold. She was worried about you, she confided in me, it was I who advised her not to give you the soft approach, because I didn't think you'd listen.  
She would make a good and loyal friend. Like we always were. We were a team.....and I loved working for you. You've always been good to me, treated me with respect. Please, Malcolm, don't hate and judge EVERYONE around you, there are still some good people in the world. You just have to see them. Please!"  
Malcolm moved to the opposite side of his desk, placing it's bulk between them.  
"I'm thirsty. Can you fetch me a weak, milky coffee? Since that's all I'm allowed now, or I'll bring down the wrath of the Gods. Can you do that please Sam? I have work to do." 

With a deep sigh, Sam, moved towards the door. Malcolm could see she was crying again, and he felt sick.  
Sure, he could promise. He could say anything. He could lie. But it wouldn't make it true, or something that he would stick to.  
How could he walk away? Silly woman. This was his fucking life, didn't she realise? 

It was all he had. 

And with that territory went long hours, irregular meals and little sleep. He'd done it for so long, he knew nothing else.  
How could he promise to completely change the habits of a lifetime?  
She was daft to even suggest it.  
He was Malcolm Tucker. It was expected. It was the way he was. 

oOo

Later, before she went home. Sam came in to him again.  
He was bogged down with paperwork, completely snowed under.  
The Autumn Budget response was like working on War and Peace, interminable, tedious and long winded. Full of legal speak, jargon and economic vagaries.  
He'd been wading through it for three hours solid.  
Rubbing a hand across his aching eyes, he pushed his glasses up to his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
She carried a cup of green tea in her hand, and a light snack.  
The waft of the tea made him pull a face.  
"I thought I'd bring you this before I leave." She placed the cup on his desk.  
"Thanks!" He muttered. "This green tea lark, is going to be the death of me.....slow and infinitely painful. I fucking hate it. It's shite. I'd rather have a double espresso."  
"You haven't had a pain today though have you? Have you taken your meds?" A folded napkin was laid beside his plate.  
"Sam, for fucks sake!" His voice tinged with sarcasm. "Yes! I've taken my medicine like a good little boy! Do I get a sweetie now!"  
"No need to be like that! I was just asking. Don't jump down my throat for caring about you. You silly man! You are dear to me, whether you like it or not. I've known you a very long time, why wouldn't I be concerned for you? Don't bite the hand that feeds you!"  
"I'm sorry, okay! I'm tired, that's all. Fucking tired as hell." He leaned back in the chair.  
"Please don't stay there all night working on that thing. Pack up and go home soon, please Malcolm?" Her tone was subdued, almost sad. She moved to his side, peering at his copious notes.  
"Are you busy at the weekend?" She asked, with a nonchalant air.  
"No! You know I'm not! When am I ever busy at the weekend, unless I'm here in this dump?"  
"Good! You're coming to my place then! I'm having a little get together, it's John's birthday, just food and drink and chat, nothing major. On Saturday. About 2pm onwards, it'll go on into the evening. I'd like you to be there."  
Malcolm frowned.  
"But your husband hates me! I keep you away from him, work you too hard, lean on you too much. I'D hate me if I were him!"  
"Malcolm! John does NOT hate you! That's ridiculous. You can bring someone if you like. Do you have a 'plus one?'"  
He gave a hollow laugh.  
"You know fucking well I haven't!"  
"Well come on your own then. Everyone there won't be in couples, John's rugby pals won't bring their wives and girlfriends. I'm sure you'll find someone to talk to.....if not, there's always me!" She smiled sweetly.  
Malcolm gave a resigned sigh.  
"Okay, I'll be there."  
"Good! I'm off home then. See you! And eat that snack I left you!"  
She didn't wait for Malcolm's reply. But she was almost sure his shoe hit the door as she closed it behind her.


	6. The Birthday at Sam's.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm arrives for the 'small' party........

CHAPTER SIX.  
THE BIRTHDAY AT SAM'S. 

A clamour of laughter and music and happy voices assaulted Malcolm as he rung the doorbell at Sam's house. 

Small gathering she said. Just a few people she said. 

The house was rammed. Furniture pushed back, knots of people standing around in every downstairs room, chatting and drinking merrily.   
Sam opened the door, and flung her arms around him, crushing the expensive bottle, expertly shop wrapped with a bow, that was tucked under his arm.   
Her eyes were shining with pleasure.   
"Malcolm!" She breathed. "I'm so glad you came! I thought you wouldn't."   
"Said I would be here didn't I?" He retorted, his eyes scanning the assembled company.   
There were familiar faces he knew, but quite a few he didn't, as he was piloted through the hallway towards the kitchen.   
He was faintly annoyed that she'd told him a fib. But it was too late now. He was here.   
John came forward to greet him, holding out a cordial hand. The two men shook, and sized each other up for a few seconds.  
"Happy Birthday!" Malcolm ventured, handing over the gift.   
"Thanks very much. Glad you could make it, Sam would have been really disappointed if you hadn't come."   
The handshake was firm and genuine, and Malcolm relaxed a little.  
"Can't think why! She's sees more than enough of me every fucking day." He replied with a shrug.   
"It's called friendship Malcolm.....you should try it sometime." He smiled and patted Malcolm gently on the back.  
"Come on! What are you drinking? Let's find you something!" He moved towards the fridge, taking a tumbler from the kitchen counter.  
"Apple juice or something please......I'm not allowed orange anymore, or maybe a soda water."   
"No wine? Or a beer perhaps?" John stood poised, fridge door open.  
"Nah! Never was much of a drinker, less so lately." Malcolm replied, "Gotta be on my best behaviour!"   
Just then a hand was laid on his left shoulder.  
"Well! Don't you scrub up well? How different you look out of that suit."   
He turned to find Marie standing beside him, smiling brightly, cradling a glass of champagne.   
"We meet again!" He said quietly.   
"Seems we're doomed to!" She laughed, "Sorry, I'm probably the last person you want to see."  
"You're infinitely preferable to some I could think of." He said, with a slight smile.   
"How are you feeling?" She asked, moving slightly closer, so that their elbows were touching.  
"Not too bad, I guess. Not brilliant, but better than I was if I'm honest. Pissed off with what I'm eating though." He sighed.   
"It's only been a week, Malcolm, give it a chance. Meds working?" She raised her eyebrows in polite enquiry.  
"Sometimes. Depends what I'm doing, or what I've eaten. I'd kill my granny for a Danish and a double espresso, but so far I haven't succumbed!"   
Her face registered sympathy, but she said nothing more on the subject. Instead she helped herself to more fizz.   
"Actually, I'm glad I've seen you, I wanted to ask you something....."  
They moved to one side together, through the throng, as the music volume was cranked up.   
'Starships' boomed through the open door.   
"Fucking hell.....is Nicki Minaj actually a human being?" He scoffed, "she looks like an alien to me."   
Marie chortled, "well, at least you knew it was her singing......you're really down with the kids!"   
"Oh shut up!" He snapped, with mock anger. "I'm nearly fifty, not a hundred and fifty! Even though I feel like it most days! She's the weirdest shaped female I've ever seen........What was it you were going to say?"   
"Oh, yes! Sorry! I have two words for you.....Star. Wars!" She announced, as if he'd know what she was talking about.  
"Star Wars?" He repeated in confusion.  
"Yes! I have two tickets! My friend is in the entertainment business, she gave them to me.....for the premiere.   
And I thought, who better to ask than you! Do you want to come?"   
Malcolm's eyes flicked across her face searchingly, his mind processing her words carefully.  
"Okaaaayy?" He replied, a dubious tone in his voice.   
Marie didn't seem to notice his scepticism, and carried on speaking animatedly.  
"Yes! Wasn't it great? I couldn't believe it when I was offered them. It's not really my thing, but I knew you'd love to go!"   
"Rigghhttt! Well.......that'll be good......I guess. Thanks!" Malcolm tried to hide his evident puzzlement as best he could.   
Seeing him shuffle slightly, she sensed his embarrassment.  
Then she thought she'd twigged the reason for his discomfiture.   
"Oh! Crikey!" She exclaimed. "You didn't think I was asking you out on a date, did you?"  
Malcolm demurred, staring down into his glass.   
"Sorry! I didn't make myself very clear. What must you think of me? It's just as friends, yeah? Or colleagues if you prefer.........but I just thought, as it's Star Wars......well, you know."   
"It's fine. Really! I'll come with you." He replied, simply.   
"Are you sure? Phew! Thought you'd got the wrong end of the stick for a minute there." She stepped away from him slightly.  
"No, no.....it's okay. I'm happy to come. We could maybe grab a bite to eat afterwards if you fancy it?"   
His eyes seemed to look everywhere but at hers.   
Now it was her turn to be flummoxed.   
"Oh!" She exclaimed with surprise. "Alright. Yes. Okay. That'd be.......that'd be good. Right!"   
Seeing her unease, he attempted to change the subject.  
"I'm going to Berlin at the end of the month." It was the most random statement he could come up with, to diffuse the situation.   
"Really?" She replied. "That'll be nice! What for?" She reached for a third glass of champagne.  
Small talk.   
For fucks sake! What as he doing here talking to this barmy woman?  
Star Wars? What the fuck was that all about?  
"Conference on Climate Change. Obama's going to be there, and about fifty or more world leaders. The great and the good!" He added sarcastically.   
"Oh yes, of course, I'd heard about it. I've been working on some economic forecasts for it, for the PM. I forgot it was next month."  
They spoke together for a few moments more, before Malcolm managed to wrench himself free and make his way back to the kitchen. He left her talking to one of John's rugby mates. Grateful to escape. 

The afternoon wore into evening. As the drink flowed the assembly became less inhibited.  
Shrieks of laughter erupted frequently, the living room became a dance floor.   
Malcolm glanced at his watch more than once.  
"Enjoying yourself?" Sam was at his elbow, her face rosy.   
"Yeah!" He smiled. "It's great!"  
"Malcolm, you don't have to lie to me! You're having a shit time! Admit it!"   
"I'm fine. Really." He did his best to make his face look genuine.   
"Why don't you come and dance? Shake a tail feather?" She said, taking his arm.  
"Me? Nooooo! That's a bridge too far. I was just going to ask where the bathroom was?" He said, quickly.   
"Upstairs. End of the landing. Marie's here, have you spoken to her?"  
Malcolm tried to suppress a groan.  
"Yes! Last I saw she was on her sixth or seventh glass of champagne, talking to that Paul guy....the one with a neck as wide as his head!"  
Sam snorted.  
"Malcolm! You're so unkind!"   
He shrugged his shoulders, and moved away.  
"Bathroom!" He said, pointing to the ceiling. Sam let him go with a fond smile. 

At the top of the stairs, he paused. Which door did she say?  
Then he heard it.  
Weeping.  
Bollocks!   
The door was ajar, and she was standing beside the sink.   
Marie.   
Dabbing her eyes, wiping away the smudged mascara.   
She suddenly became aware of his presence.   
Hurriedly she attempted to disguise her tears, keeping her face turned well away from him. Stifling her sobs into a paper tissue.   
Part of Malcolm wanted to run a mile, but he knew it was too late for that, she'd seen him, reflected in the mirror behind her. She knew he was there.   
"Excuse me! But the door wasn't locked and I........" He began.   
His gaze travelled across her face, a silent question.  
"What are you looking at?" she snapped angrily. "Haven't you ever seen a person cry before?"   
"I'm sorry, I just......I mean, I came to use the........what's wrong? Can I do anything?" Malcolm took a step closer.   
"Fuck off, Malcolm. Leave me alone! I don't need your help. Or your pity. Just piss off okay?"   
She backed away, her hands clutching the side of the basin. Unsteady on her feet. More tears forming under her lashes.   
"Marie.......you're a bit drunk......" He held a placating hand towards her.   
"You're all the same aren't you? You men! Just like that tosser Paul downstairs. They take kindness or a well meant word and turn it into something it's not. Well, fuck the lot of you!"   
She made an attempt to push passed him, but his hand on her forearm stopped her.  
"What has Paul said?" He pressed, his fingers gripping the sleeve of her jumper.   
"I was just talking to him......that's all, no more no less, I said something about going out, and how hard it was for women, to meet new people, especially when they're divorced. And you know what he said?"  
Malcolm declined to hazard a guess. She continued anyway.  
"He said when you got left on the shelf like me you must get pretty desperate, and you'd take more or less anything that comes along! Then he asked me if I fancied going upstairs with him!"   
Her tears flowed anew, and she wiped them angrily away.  
"And that, only ten minutes after I'd asked you about the Star Wars thing, and you instantly thought I was trying to ask you out or get inside your trousers or something! Bloody hell! I'm so damn sick of everything."  
"Marie I didn't for one moment think......." Malcolm tried to defend himself.   
"Oh, don't bother! I know what you thought. I don't care! Okay? I don't fucking care!" She sniffed again.  
Malcolm released his hold, and said quietly,  
"I totally understood what you meant. And I'm happy to come with you. That's why I suggested dinner afterwards. Because I thought it would be nice. Don't lump me in with some rugby player who was an extra in Dumb and Dumber. That's not fair."   
Her eyes blazed.   
"I'll tell you what's not fair, being beyond your sell by date, that's not fair. No one wants you! You still have a lot to give, but no one needs it. They just think you have an ulterior motive or that you're gagging for a quick shag, that's what's not fair. Being on your own all the time, that's not fair either and I've had it up to here! I wish I'd never bloody come and made a prize idiot of myself, I should have stayed at home and watched TV. I can't even say I've enjoyed getting pissed! Life's not fucking fair, not fair at all!"   
With that she swept passed him, and headed off down the stairs. Leaving him standing alone, staring at her retreating back, and feeling as though someone had just dowsed him with scalding water. 

By the time Malcolm returned to the party, Marie was in the kitchen, being comforted by Sam.   
Moving through to the living room to find himself a refill, he was just in time to hear the infamous Paul mouthing off, in the centre of a typical blokey circle, recounting his version of Marie's rejection of his offer.   
"And I said to her, you must be joking love! I wouldn't look at you if you had a bag on your head. Fucking needy bitch. She must be forty five if she's a day!"   
Everyone laughed heartily.   
Malcolm moved into the ring, a couple of the men were clearly prop forwards, but most were of average height and build, Malcolm being taller than several of them. What he lacked in girth, he made up for in ferocity.  
"That's odd!" He interjected, his voice raised. "I heard she's actually very fussy. Only goes out with a man who has a proper dick."   
Sam and Marie were now standing in the doorway behind Malcolm, but he was unaware of their presence.   
"Who the fuck are you?" Paul said, turning and seeing that Malcolm's eye level was slightly higher than his own.   
"I'm the mad angry bastard who's going to take you outside and rearrange your bollocks you mincing fucking cunt, unless you go and apologise. You think you're the big guy standing here surrounded by all your bum chums. But you're nothing but a waste of a ball sac. So come on you wanker, what's it gonna be?"   
The malice in Malcolm's face, the challenging stance, made Paul quail.  
John came to the rescue at that moment, before things turned potentially ugly.  
"Guys! I'm sure no harm was meant! Paul will say sorry, won't you Paul? Just a misunderstanding."   
Paul backed away, with a puff of relief.  
"Sure! I was just mucking about! It was just banter, that's all!"   
He hurried away, seeing Marie standing alongside Sam, he mumbled a quick apology.   
Malcolm turned towards the doorway, mouthing the word, "cocksucker!"   
Sam's face was glowing, a mixture of pride, admiration, and satisfaction.   
Marie looked completely and utterly dumbfounded, her expression was one of the deepest surprise and confusion.   
John rounded on his wife's boss, with barely disguised anger.   
"What was that all about?"   
"Sorry to piss on your party John, but your rugby friends are arseholes."  
He turned back to Sam, who remained rooted to the spot, with Marie beside her.  
"Got any more of that apple juice? I seem to have worked up quite a thirst." He said, and gave his PA a wicked wink.


	7. Planet of the Teddy Bears.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the premiere arrives......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a direct reference to my own story The Send Off, which I wrote some time ago and is the reason Ollie doesn't appear in this one!!   
> (So it's a kinda AU crossover!! )(although the two stories aren't linked in any way otherwise!)

CHAPTER SEVEN.  
PLANET OF THE TEDDY BEARS.

The face that stared back at Malcolm in the mirror as he shaved, wore a haunted look.  
He barely recognised it.   
Sharp features, pinched and worn.   
Buttoning his best suit trousers, he grimaced. There was at least an inch gap, even more, in fact he could put his hand and arm inside the waistband and there would still be room.   
Fuck it.  
When had he last worn this suit? It was Armani, a beautiful cut, perfect tailoring. He'd decided against his tux, this ensemble was more comfortable, except now he'd have to wear a belt.   
Instead of feeling his usual fairly confident self, he felt like a waif. An orphan, thin and neglected and rather sorry for himself.   
With a sigh, he fastened his tie, and prepared to leave the house. 

They'd arranged to meet in a bar for a drink beforehand.   
Shit! But he really wasn't looking forward to this. What the fuck would they talk about?   
Work probably. Did they have anything in common?   
Fuck if he knew.   
Bloody Star Wars! Why the hell had she asked him?   
Oh well, it was one evening. He hadn't had the heart to say no, so now he'd just have to make the best of it. 

The pub was rammed with people. Malcolm didn't spot her at first.   
When he did, he hardly recognised her. She looked so different. Hair done differently, in curls, a knee length cocktail style dress and heels. Nice makeup. Pretty earrings.   
Blimey!   
She reached his side through the throng, with a shy smile.   
"Hiya! God, it's so packed! The queue at the bar is ridiculous!"   
He gave her a cursory peck on both cheeks, by way of a greeting.   
"You look really nice!" He offered, eyeing her appreciatively.  
She blushed furiously.  
"Why, thank you." She replied, looking him up and down. "You look smart too. That's a lovely bit of cloth you're wearing!"   
Malcolm smoothed the front of his jacket with both hands, and frowned slightly. "I've lost more weight, it's a bit lose." He remarked sullenly.  
"It'll go back on when your stomach settles down, and you're not throwing up all the time. How's it been, by the way?" Her voice rose, to make herself heard above the clamour.   
"Oh, up and down." He responded. " I've been hectic this last couple of days, so it's not so good, never is when I can't eat regularly. I was sick yesterday, but it's better today."  
He caught the barman's eye and ordered drinks. Soda water for himself , a white wine spritzer for her.   
They found a quieter corner in which to stand. It was as if they were circling each other nervously. Neither quite knowing how to address the other. It was a few moments before they fell into an uneasy truce.  
"When is it you're off to Berlin?" She enquired, turning her glass in both hands.   
"Next week. Can't say I'm looking forward to it much."   
They talked about foreign travel generally, places they'd been, sights they'd seen. He learned that she loved to travel, enjoyed the culture of the place. Immersing herself in it. She discovered he wasn't much of a beach man......Glaswegian blue skin, not good for tanning! Not much of a sports man either, so no ski trips, no snow boarding! But he loved galleries, art and architecture, history and museums. Particularly enjoyed Italy, had been back several times.   
Marie was surprised how quickly the time passed, and when they left the bar to head off to the cinema, she felt much more relaxed in his company, and he in hers. 

Taking their seats, and settling themselves, there was a rumble of anticipation in the packed auditorium.  
The lights dimmed and the intro music began. 

Emerging almost three hours later, Malcolm piloted her to a pre booked taxi and they were duly deposited at the restaurant.   
Situated in a side road just off Carnaby Street, not far from Oxford Circus, they were greeted by a smart doorman.  
"My!" Marie exclaimed. "This looks posh! Am I underdressed?"   
"Don't be daft!" He ushered her inside ahead of him. "You look great!"   
Their table was a booth, curtained at the top. A button on the wall at the side of the table said,   
"PRESS FOR CHAMPAGNE."   
She eyed it with an air of thinly repressed excitement.   
"Seriously?" She laughed.  
"Go on! Press it, then start counting!" Malcolm's eyes twinkled mischievously.   
She obeyed, then sat back."......1........2.........3.........4..........5........si....!"  
An immaculate bar girl appeared as if she'd been beamed there.  
Malcolm smiled at the waitress, "Five seconds......not bad! But I've known you be quicker!"   
"Okay......I'm impressed! Very impressed! Good choice of venue!" She giggled. "But I'm not having as much to drink as I had at Sam's! Won't live that ignominious evening down! I never thanked you for that, by the way......"  
Malcolm cut her off.  
"No need, the guy was a dick, and although I know I'm one myself, even I draw the line somewhere."   
"Sam was impressed. She hero worships you a bit, I think!" She said, sipping from her flute.   
Malcolm laughed out loud.  
"Bollocks does she!" He retorted, "Sam's a diamond! I love her to bits. She's about the only real friend I've got. She knows me better than I know myself. But hero worship? Never! She and I understand each other, that's all!"   
"I like her a lot. She's been very kind to me." Marie's tone turned sober.   
"Like I say.......a diamond." He replied. 

The waiter returned, they ordered their food, after much deliberation and recommendation, hors d'oeuvres and main course, they elected to share chateaubriand, Malcolm ordered himself a glass of wine, and they fell back into amicable conversation.   
"So......what did you think?" Her hands played absentmindedly with the hem of her napkin.  
"Of the film, I mean! Good wasn't it?"  
Malcolm gave a sigh, and a noncommittal shrug.   
"If I'm totally and brutally honest Marie, it wasn't that bad.......but it really isn't my thing. I'm not much of a sci fi fan."   
She looked confused. Eyeing him with disbelief.   
"But.......?"  
"I prefer something a bit more.....cerebral, or a good spy movie perhaps, something a bit more meaty!" His expression was one of abject apology.  
"Hang on.....but you're a huge fan......." Her puzzlement was profound.  
"Nah. Not me. It's the first of the series I've ever seen. Doesn't matter though. It was the thought that counts." Malcolm smiled and patted her hand.   
"No! No! No!" She shook her head, withdrawing her hand in confusion, completely nonplused. "That's not right. You have the entire box set in your house. I saw it! With extras, interviews and deleted scenes.....the whole cahooney!"   
Malcolm stopped, mouth open slightly, processing her words, cogs turning, a dawning realisation hitting him slowly.   
"So..........let me get this straight........you asked me to the premiere, based on that info.......?"   
She nodded, biting her lip.  
His face began to curl into a smile, which became a chuckle, which turned into a belly laugh, eventually becoming a full blown hysterical all encompassing convulsive roar. He rocked back and forth, holding his sides, tears coming down his cheeks, as he tried to get his breath between bursts.   
"What? What?" She begged. "What have I done? Tell me. Why is it so funny?" She sounded desolate, acutely embarrassed, visibly upset.  
"I'm sorry......" he gasped, snorting, before another wave hit him." I'm really sorry......I can't.......no! You didn't.......you couldn't have kn............oh god! I think I'm going to pass out......ha ha ha ha!"   
He continued to cackle mercilessly.   
"MALCOLM! TELL ME!" She cried.  
"That box set wasn't mine......" He tried to speak between fits, "it was left to me......as a joke.....by a friend.......cos I used to take the piss out of him......because he liked it, he was a geek.........all made of fucking Lego! Ha ha ha ha ha....." He dissolved again, unable to continue.   
"WHAT? You're kidding me! But I thought......." She began to laugh in her turn.  
"Oh my! I must admit, I did kinda wonder why you asked me!" He spluttered.  
"Oh, Malcolm! I'm SUCH a bloody idiot! You must have thought I was completely bonkers!" Her mirth was tempered only by her awkwardness. She shook her head in mock despair, between fits of giggles.  
"What a tit! I thought you looked at me askance when I asked you, and was enthusing about it. Oh my Lord! Malcolm I'm so sorry! You sat through three hours and you never said a word! I'm dying here!" She held her head in her hands.  
"Don't! Don't feel bad! It was an honest mistake! But you have to admit, it is VERY funny!" He managed to control himself, as their starters arrived.   
"Well, this will certainly be an evening to remember and no mistake." She chortled, as they tucked in. "At least the restaurant was a good choice though. You've managed to do something right, even if I can't. This is amazing!" 

They fell into chatting happily, between mouthfuls. Marie's mistake and the resulting amusement had gone a long way to breaking the ice.   
Both parties relaxed.   
Malcolm was the most animated she'd ever seen him.   
He smiled great deal. Marie couldn't help thinking how it suited him. How different his face looked.  
Meal over, he sat back in his seat with a huff, his hand straying to his sternum.  
"Pain?" She asked, with concern.  
"A bit. Not terrible, but it's there." He blew out his cheeks.  
"You want to go? It's late." She reached for her bag. "Go Dutch?"  
"Fuck off! You're not paying, I am! It's my treat!" He retorted, reaching for his wallet.  
"I drag you to an evening you don't want to go to, then you end up paying for dinner? That hardly seems fair!" She frowned.  
"It was a good evening. I haven't laughed like that in years! That's worth a dinner at the very least!"  
"Shame the laugh was caused by me, rather than with me though! Still, I guess you have to take what you can get!" She replied, somewhat sadly.  
"It wasn't your fault. And it turned out okay. I'll get them to call us a cab, drop you home." Malcolm took out his credit card.

Marie was silent in the taxi. Staring out of the window.   
Malcolm sat beside her, his leg jiggling again. She could hear his breathing shallow, she knew he was suffering, although he didn't complain.   
"You okay?" She leaned over to look at him, noticing a slight sheen on his forehead.  
"I'll be alright once I get in, take my meds, I usually have some milk or something."   
"Thanks for dinner Malcolm. It was nice. Sorry about the Star Wars thing!"  
"It's fine! Planet of the Teddy Bears! Hilarious!" He smirked.  
"It's EWOKS Malcolm, but you know that! "  
"Forget it! I'll see you Monday, yeah? I'm in before I go to Berlin Tuesday morning." He reached into his jacket pocket again.   
"Yeah, I'll be around the office Monday. The PM wants me to go over my figures with him. I suspect your Leader will be going over his stuff too. Oh.....and put your money away. The cab's on me! I'm paying, and I won't take no for an answer!"   
She handed the cabbie a £20 note, though the open glass partition.   
Malcolm didn't protest, but held his stomach with his left hand.   
"I'm not sure I should even fraternise with you! Working for the enemy!" He tried to smile, despite his obvious discomfort.  
"Rubbish! I don't work for the government, I work for myself, if it was your lot wanting my services then I'd work for them. I'm essentially an economist. My politics have nothing to do with anything. I analyse figures, make predictions, advise on election strategy, I lean neither one way or t'other! Why, are you afraid I'll welsh on you, to the 'other side'?"  
Malcolm smirked.   
"For all I know you could be a devious plant. Sent to extract vital information, to lure me into divulging secrets!"  
"You read too many spy novels Malcolm. This isn't Tinker, Tailor, Soldier......."  
"Cunt?"   
Marie snorted with suppressed laughter.  
"You are really terrible! You know that right? Really terrible!" She chuckled.   
"Yep, that's me! The Sassenach Assassin!" He smiled.  
"The Driller Killer with guts ache! Some super power that is! 'Hold on, I can't save the world for the next ten minutes, I need time for my antacid to work'......Kinda loses some of its impact Malcolm!"   
He huffed in response.  
"Once I was the fucking Pharaoh!" He groaned.  
"Well, you can be again......just stick to your doc's advice! This is me, my road! So I'll see you Monday. Be good! And if you can't be good, be careful!" She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, as the cab pulled up outside her house.   
Malcolm leaned out to look at her place, it was a pleasant semi, not unlike his own, a little smaller, but neat and nicely appointed.   
To Marie's surprise, he not only climbed out of the taxi to open the door for her, but walked her up the front path while she fumbled for her keys, asking the driver to wait.  
"It's very chivalrous of you, but you don't have to......" She began.  
"Nonsense! What would my mam say, if I didn't know my manners with a lady?" He retorted earnestly. "She'd have my guts for garters! Well, she would if she were alive!"   
"Goodnight Malcolm. And thank you." She replied. He waited until her key was in the door, before thrusting his hands into his pockets and turning away.   
She watched him go, with an odd lump in her throat.   
It was the second time he'd really surprised her.


	8. Drowning in Berlin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is off to the Climate Change Conference......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title refers back to the song Drowning in Berlin by The Mobiles. From 1982. Give it a listen.....it's on YouTube!

CHAPTER EIGHT.  
DROWNING IN BERLIN.

Easing himself into the seat, Malcolm decided that his legs were too long for Economy. Even if the flight was not a particularly long one.  
They had to be seen not to be wasting tax payers money, especially as it was a conference for Climate Change.  
Fuck knows what his carbon footprint was......a fucking great Wellington boot probably.  
He settled himself, pulled down his lap tray, took out his papers and laptop and began tapping away conscientiously.  
It wasn't long before the stewardess wandered down the aisle, asking everyone to stow their belongings, 'return the seat to the upright position' and prepare for take off.  
Belt fastened, he sat back, idly staring out of the window at the gloomy Sussex day. 

It was still very early. He closed his eyes, letting the lids fall shut, his thoughts to wander......  
Yesterday morning, in his office.  
He felt better then, and through the weekend.  
Now he felt sick. Bilious. He hadn't slept well. Probably because his brain was aware of the conference coming up, the potential for cock ups, the stress of interviews, press briefings, being under constant scrutiny.  
Fuck, but he was getting too old for this malarkey.  
Yesterday seemed like the calm before the storm. The office was quiet.  
Sam had come in to sit with him for a while, going over notes and emails. He always felt more at ease when she was there, with her serene and unruffled countenance.  
How on earth would he find someone to replace her?  
It wasn't possible, there was no one. There could never be.  
She noticed how subdued he was.  
"It'll be alright Malc. You'll be fine!" It was as if she read his bloody thoughts. 

Later, she'd been called home. Her boy was ill, sent home from school.  
Who did she call, to provide her with some back up?  
Marie.  
Coat on, slightly flustered, Sam rushed into his office.  
"Right Malcolm, I'm off! Sorry about this!"  
"It's fine Sam. Go! Be with your son."  
She halted in her tracks........  
He seemed so......so........she didn't know......wistful?  
Just sad?  
Like this was something he'd completely missed out on, and now it was too late, and he was filled with longing and regret.  
Sam was really quite upset by his demeanour that lunchtime. It worried her. It was something new, something she'd never ever seen in him before.  
"Malcolm? Are you feeling unwell again?" She asked, and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
He shrugged her away, and swung his chair around.  
"I'm alright. Leave me be, Sam. Go home, take care of your little boy."  
"I've given your number to Marie. She's on her way over. She'll filter any emails and calls for me and be your back up, here in London."  
"What? What the fuck did you do that for? That bloody woman just loves to check up on me! She tells me what to do! Why her?" Malcolm groaned.  
"I wanted a temp. But I couldn't get hold of anyone at such short notice, I needed someone I could trust......what with you going off tomorrow........" She moved around so that she was standing in front of him again.  
"But she's not a PA.....she doesn't even work for us." Malcolm huffed.  
"I know, but she's bright and quick and eminently sensible, she knows what she's doing and she can look after you from this end while you are away, in case I can't, her work with the PM is done, so she's kinda at a lose end. She's doing us a huge favour Malc. You should be grateful!"  
Malcolm sighed.  
"But she'll be messaging me every five minutes, to make sure I'm behaving, taking my stuff, eating, you name it! She thinks she's my fucking mother."  
Sam smiled.  
"Admit it.....you like her......."  
"She's a pain in the arse." He leaned back in his chair with a humph.  
"You had a nice evening after the premier....?" Said Sam, with a questioning raise of one eyebrow.  
"Told you all about that, did she? Did she tell you why she asked me? Nuts I tell you. Completely nuts!"  
Malcolm's face betrayed a slight amusement.  
"You're being mean Malcolm, and not truthful. You enjoyed yourself, you're just too afraid to admit it, I know you.......and Marie is a really nice person."  
"Stop trying to play Blind Date, Sam. It's not gonna work. I'm not interested. Stop trying to pair me off. She's way outta my league anyway. Never gonna happen."  
Sam smiled broadly.  
"Oh Malcolm! You know something? For one so clever, you can be remarkably dense sometimes! Look....I gotta go! I'll see you when you get back from the conference. Have you done anything about advertising for a new PA yet?" Malcolm frowned disconsolately.  
"No! I've been kinda busy, yeah? Can't you do it?"  
Sam squeaked with indignation.  
"Malcolm I'm not advertising and interviewing my own replacement! This isn't going away you know! When you get back you're going to have to deal with it! Like it or not. Now I REALLY must go! Toodle loo!"  
She swept passed him and was gone.

Malcolm opened his eyes. He was in the air.  
Had he dropped off?  
Missed the take off completely?  
Fucking hell, things were going from bad to worse again. 

Flinging his bag and suit carrier down on his bed, Malcolm glanced at his watch.  
He had an hour or so before the first meeting took place. Time enough.  
He bounced his backside on the bed a couple of times to test it. The room was a generic room that you'd find in pretty much any hotel in any city, anywhere in the world.  
Mini bar, tiny kettle and a porn channel. 

He unpacked his clothes, hung up his suits and found the package that Marie had given him the day before. 

She'd popped in just before he left that evening.  
"Hope it goes okay at the conference. Sam's given me all the info I need. Anything I can do, just call or text. This is for you." She handed him a small parcel. "Don't open it now, but take it to Germany with you."  
"Thanks. Have you heard from Sam? I sent a text, but haven't had a reply." Malcolm took out his phone and checked it again.  
"She's taken the little one to the Doctor's surgery, that's probably why she can't reply. I have to say it sounds like chicken pox, but I'm no expert. It's years since my two had it!" Marie replied.  
"You all set for tomorrow? Anticipating any real problems?" She added.  
"God, I hope not! He's pretty well briefed. As long as I can prevent him going off piste, and coming out with some statement not previously passed, we'll be okay." 

Inside the parcel were ginger and camomile teabags, and aloe vera juice. A bag of marshmallows and some liquorice. Also a post-it note saying: _'just in case! xx'_  
Malcolm smiled to himself, shaking his head, and reached for his phone to send a text message. 

_"Thanks for the rescue package! M xx"_

A reply came through almost immediately. 

_"In case of emergencies! Can't have the Assassin laid up! Lol. Marie. xx"_

Malcolm showered and changed and was downstairs in plenty of time to meet other delegates, their entourages and his Leader of the Opposition, whose arse he was employed to, metaphorically, wipe.  
The afternoon and evening were long and tedious. Discussions, meetings, talks.  
Finally able to slip away, many of the back up teams were meeting for drinks, but Malcolm escaped as soon as he could and retreated to his room.  
It was an early start next day, for the main event, in the large conference centre. Seminars and a round the table discussion, many world leaders. His own man was a bit part player in this, but they had to attend. It was mandatory.  
Malcolm stripped off his jacket and tie, trousers, shirt and socks. Switched on his little kettle and reached for a ginger and camomile teabag.  
Sipping it carefully, he decided he much preferred this taste to the green tea, which he likened to drinking his own piss. Not that he'd ever drunk his own piss, but he guessed, that if ever he did, that's probably what it would taste like. 

Television on, he flicked channels. News from the conference he watched for a few minutes, then general stuff. 

He considered the porn. 

What was the fucking point!  
Malcolm couldn't remember the last time he got his leg over.  
It had been a while.  
Prostitutes were not his bag, and he would never trust them anyway. He knew of plenty of MP's and high ranking Civil Servants, whose extra-marital exploits, or other naughty dalliances, ended up in the press, or were whispered about in the corridors of Whitehall and at the Squash club. He didn't want to be one of them. Grubby little tales of high class escorts, dominatrix and mistresses, whippings and cock-cages, which were tittered over at the Gentleman's Club.  
Fuck that for a game of tin soldiers!  
His last girlfriend had been ages ago. It hadn't lasted long. She worked at the Beeb, she tired of him before he could tire of her. Before her was Kelly Grogan......big mistake! Turned out to be a right bitch, was fucking him and Hewitt at the same time! Then there was a one night stand.....not his finest hour, a friend of Sam's he'd met at the Christmas party.  
So, he was reduced to tugging himself off whenever he felt horny. Which was actually quite often, it was something that hadn't diminished as he'd got older. Relying on skin mags or the odd DVD as stroke fodder, or failing that, his own imagination.  
Fucking sad cunt, that's what he was, couldn't and wouldn't pay for it, so had to go without. 

Sod it! He didn't even have the energy for a wank.  
Film it was then......Bridge of Spies. Well, you couldn't go wrong with Tom Hanks.  
He settled himself on top of the large bed, in just his boxers, with another mug of tea, peanuts from the minibar, and made the best of it. 

oOo

The morning session was stultifying.  
Everyone tiptoeing around certain issues, trying not to upset the Chinese delegation. No one wanting to agree to anything unless someone else agreed to it first.  
Discussions centred around how they can't tell the Indian Subcontinent they must keep their emissions down, just as they were emerging from the Stone Age, when the West had been fucking up the atmosphere for the last however many years........then his own toddler, in giving an off the cuff interview to a small newspaper, decided to set out his utopian thoughts of an ideal world of renewable energy, demanding solar panels on every roof top. Which stirred up a complete shit storm, which Malcolm had to then deal with, as best he could. Criticism rained down from green groups, accusing him of being unrealistic and not specifying where the money would come from to fund such schemes.  
Branded as a 'tree hugger' by other rival factions, and his mantra of 'Planet before Profit' was lambasted by media and politicians alike as nothing more than a gimmick.  
What a shit day!  
By the time Malcolm returned to his room again, it was very late and he was exhausted. Hungry too, having had no time to grab more than a bite, his stomach giving him gip.  
Collapsing on his bed, fully clothed, he couldn't remember a time in his life when he ever felt more desolate, more alone, more fucking wrecked, and there had been some pretty low points in the past. None that reached the plunging depths he felt right now.  
There was no one, not one single person, except maybe Sam, who cared if he lived or died. Who gave a toss about him. What a sobering thought.  
Here he was, in some foreign hotel room, and he felt like shit.  
Fuck! Fuck it all. He could just throw in the towel. End it. Who would even notice? No more pain. No more anything. No one would miss him. 

At that moment his jacket pocket vibrated and started ringing. He reached for it, and looked at the display.  
_'Marie calling.'_  
Was that fucking woman psychic or something? Her timing was on another level. It was almost spooky. 

"Hello?"

_"Hi, Malcolm, it's me."_

"Yeah. So it is. What the fuck do you want? Do you know what time it is?" 

_"It's 1am your time. I hadn't heard from you. I was worried."_

"So you thought you'd just call me? Out of the blue? Why?"

_"Well........yes. I did. I........don't know why, I just did. Sorry.....did I wake you?"_

"No fucking chance! I'm sitting here, in my room, contemplating.........contemplating........never mind.........and my fucking phone rings, right on cue, like it's the fucking Samaritans, are you a witch or something?"

_"Malcolm? What's wrong? You sound odd, you okay?"_

"Not really. Shit day. I'm fucking drowning here. End of my tether."

_"I saw the News. Jesus! Your guy is a knob end!"_

"Yeah. I've been mopping up crap all day." 

His phone pinged with a whatsapp.......he looked at it......it was an emoji of a pile of poop, with eyes.  
Malcolm laughed in spite of himself. 

_"Did you get it?"_

"Yeah, it just came through. Fucking hell, Marie. I'm shattered, and I don't have anyo........I want to come home." 

Silence for a few seconds.

"Marie? You there?" 

_"Yeah, I'm here. How you feeling stomach wise?"_

"It's hell. Fucking hell. I've eaten virtually nothing since breakfast. Haven't had time. Don't wanna eat now, it's too late." 

_"Have something small, to stop the mice gnawing, some crackers or something, and a milk drink. Send down for it, room service."_

"Okay. I will. Fucking hell. I've just realised what I said. About coming home. Home! Ha, what a joke. Home isn't even really home, it's just a place where my stuff is. Fuck!" 

_"Malcolm. You're feeling really low, I can tell by your voice. It'll be over soon. You'll be on your way back, another couple of days."_

"I can't believe you rung me. Just then. Just at that precise moment. FUCK! FUCK! I feel so fucking.......empty. You know?" 

_"Yes, Malcolm, I do know. I know EXACTLY what that feels like. It feels like a great big hole right in the centre of your chest, and there's an ache, and it hurts. It feels like there are tears pricking the backs of your eyes, but they won't come. It feels as if there's no one, nothing, nothing but pain and sorrow and anguish, and that it's never going to be any different. So yeah......believe me, I fucking know!"_

"Fuck it all, Marie. I'm so tired right now, I feel like I could sleep for a fortnight." 

_"I know Malcolm. But, trust me, it does get better. It does. You turn a corner. It might not be today, or next week, but you do. I've turned a hell of a lot of corners, and part of the trick is realising they're there in the first place. Waiting to be turned. Life just deals us blow after blow, and we just have to keep getting up, carrying on, heading for that next corner."_

Silence for a few more moments.

_"Malcolm? You still there?"_

"Marie, can I ask you something?"

_"Sure. Fire away!"_

"You've been on your own for a while right?"

_"Yeah. Like I told you, passed my sell by date! No one wants me! So, I just bloody well get on with it. Sod 'em all!"_

"Me too. No one wants me either. When I get back, Marie, can I take you out? For dinner or something, like we did before? As friends I mean......can I ? Would you be up for that?" 

_"Yes, Malcolm, I would! Why not! We can be sad lonely fuckers together! You're on!"_

"Thanks Marie, and I don't know why the fuck you rang me, but I'm bloody glad you did. I was fucking wrong about you. I admit it. Sam was right, and I was wrong. And I'm sorry. Thanks for being there. I appreciate it."

_"That's what friends are for Malcolm. I'd be pleased to call you a friend. I'll call again tomorrow if you want. Or you can call me. Tell me about your day. We can have a chat. It's no big deal, but if you want to, I'm here.  
Okay?" _

"Okay. Thanks. I will. I'm gonna try and get some sleep now. I'm bushed. Night." 

_"Alright. Speak tomorrow. Night."_

Malcolm rang off, then rang room service. He felt suddenly lighter. Like a great weight of something had lifted. There actually was someone, who was thinking about him, even if only in a small way. It didn't matter how, but Marie just had him on her mind, in his darkest hour, he was there in her thoughts.  
He was pathetically grateful. Almost euphoric. His brain fired with endorphins, nerves tingling, despite his weariness. Thankful. A few moments ago, he could see no way out. Now a door was open, just the merest crack, and it was enough.  
His cock twitched, he had a raging hard on. 

Maybe he'd take a look at that porn channel after all.


	9. A Plague on Both Your Houses.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm returns from Berlin.......

CHAPTER NINE.  
A PLAGUE ON BOTH YOUR HOUSES. 

Gathering together his hand luggage, Malcolm prepared to deplane.   
He had spoken to Marie at the end of each of the two remaining days of the conference, and had been glad of it.   
Took the edge off, having someone just to chat to normally, and they did chat normally. Like two ordinary friends, no arguments, no rude remarks, just a run of the mill, 'how was your day' conversation. 

Right now though, he felt absolutely terrible.   
The sensation had been creeping over him pretty much since he'd spoken to her the first time. A bone numbing tiredness that he just couldn't shake. To the point where, on the final day, he'd almost fallen asleep at the discussion table. His head ached. His joints ached.   
Barely remembering the flight home, he'd slept most of the time, and yet he woke still feeling tired.   
What the fuck was wrong with him?   
He collected his bag from the carousel after queuing through passport control. Standing in line, he actually thought that he might pass out. Legs weak, head swimming now, unable to focus. 

Stepping out of the green 'nothing to declare' channel, he spotted a familiar face standing by the railings. Holding a sign in her hand saying 'TUCKER'.   
Never had he been so glad to see anyone in his entire life.   
Wheeling his case, he almost stumbled as he reached her, causing her to grab his arm and hold him tightly to prevent him sinking down.  
"Malcolm! Whatever's wrong? You look dreadful." She cried.   
"Get me home!" He whispered, "please."   
She almost had to help him along, taking the case from him and linking her arm through his.  
"Malcolm, you're burning up! You have a fever. I'm taking you straight home and phoning the doctor." 

Throwing down his bags as she let him into his own house, Marie helped him to the kitchen where he plonked himself down on a stool by the counter. His head in his hands.   
He dimly heard her ring the surgery, then return to his side, feeling his forehead with the palm of her hand, before putting the kettle on, and making them both a cup of tea.   
Malcolm was shivering, and yet he was on fire, his temple damp, even his hair. He seemed almost unable to speak.  
"So cold!" His teeth chattered, and he hugged himself, arms across his chest.  
"I think you should get into bed, Malcolm. You look done in."   
When he raised his eyes to look at her, she was struck by how beautiful they were, a bluey colour, but grey or slightly greenish depending on the light. Right now they were a little bloodshot, and watery, as if he was going to cry.   
"Can't move." He whispered. "Everything hurts."   
"Come on, let's get you upstairs." She eased him from the stool and helped him slowly make his way up to his bedroom. He leaned on her heavily. Apologising with each stair.   
"Fuck!" Hissing from his mouth with every bad movement.   
Almost falling onto the bed, she began to remove his jacket and undo his tie.   
"What you doin?" He batted her hands away.   
"Getting you into bed! You probably need a shower, but I'm afraid if you fall in there I won't be able to get you up. So you'll have to go without."  
She stood him up to unbutton his shirt and peel it off. It was drenched through. Without ceremony she unfastened his belt and zipper and pulled his trousers down over his backside.   
"Sit on the bed. Let me get your shoes and bottom things off." She said softly, he obeyed without a word. Watching her face intently the whole time.   
"Thanks for coming to the airport." He said, sleepily. "Fucking glad to see you standing there."   
Leaving him in his underwear, she swung his legs into the bed and pulled the duvet over him.   
It was only when she saw his back, and the back of his neck, that she noticed a few red pustules.   
They disappeared into his hairline, and there were a few in his scalp.   
"Oh, Malcolm! You've got spots! I think you may have chicken pox. Did you have it as a child?"   
"Don't think so." He murmured, " My sister Nance had it, but not me.....I had mumps and she didn't......we both had measles. But no......no chicken pox." 

Just then the doorbell rang.   
"That'll be the Doc! I'll go answer it." She ran downstairs hurriedly.  
"I think we've come to a diagnosis by ourselves Doctor. I think he's got chicken pox. My friend, his PA....her son has it. Given the incubation period, I'd say the timing's about right."   
From downstairs, Marie heard the inevitable explosion of expletives and the raised voice, as the illness was confirmed.  
"Fucking chicken pox! For fucks sake! How the bloody hell did I get chicken pox?"

oOo

Malcolm was sleeping.   
Curled like a child.   
He suddenly looked small and vulnerable.   
The doctor confirmed her fears, and said how the adult version of the disease was often quite severe.   
Plenty of fluids, paracetamol, if it didn't aggravate his stomach. Calamine lotion for the spots when they started itching.   
Not much more he could do.   
Bless him, he was really quite poorly.   
Pathetically so.  
Raging temperature and the spots popping up like bubbles in a bath.   
How could she go and leave him to it? He needed someone to take care of him.   
Marie stayed. 

He slept for hours. Much as he had the first time she'd stayed with him. Not so very long ago.   
When she eventually heard him moving about, she took him a bowl of chicken broth she'd made, on a tray.   
"You're making a bit of a habit of this!" She smiled, as she perched herself on the edge of the bed.   
He gazed at her drowsily. Gave a slight smile.   
"I'm sorry." He muttered, almost inaudibly. "Really. So much trouble."   
"Doesn't matter. You can't help it. Eat that soup now, then try to sleep some more."   
"I'm a fucking pain in the arse." He said, in between mouthfuls.   
"I'll go home for a few hours, while you sleep. Come back later. You've got my number if you need me in the meantime. Just call okay?" Her face was genuine, she cared.   
Malcolm felt very emotional, wrecked, fucked, you name it, he felt it, and he told her so.   
"You've had quite a time of it lately. What with one thing and another. It's about time something good happened for you. I think you're overdue!" She smiled.   
"I think you deserve a fucking medal!" He answered, pushing the tray away and sinking back into the pillows with a sigh.   
"God, it's good to be in my own bed." He snuggled down and closed his eyes. "Thank fuck that conference is over." He murmured dreamily. Then he was gone. 

It was really a couple of days before Malcolm could do anything other than sleep, eat a little then sleep some more.   
He was completely covered in spots. Raw and red, a rash which soon scabbed over.   
Trying to make him stop scratching was the worst task of all. Short of making him wear mittens, which Marie threatened him with.  
"Seriously? You're like a three year old!" She snapped.  
"It itches like fuck! I can't help it!" He whined.

The pair were in his bedroom, he, standing with his back to her, in just his boxers, while she liberally applied calamine lotion, down his back and shoulder blades, as far as the elastic waistband. There Marie drew the line.   
He complained bitterly.   
"I could fucking well tear my myself to pieces!" He groaned, wriggling as she painted him pink.   
"Keep still for heavens sake! It's going everywhere but where it's needed." She scolded. "God Malcolm, I swear you are the most bony scrap of nothing I've ever had the misfortune to see! Every knobble of your backbone sticks out! There really is nothing of you. We need to get some meat on that frame. You've lost so much weight."   
His problems were compounded by the fact that he now had spots inside his mouth, which were really painful and prevented him eating much that wasn't able to be sucked through a straw.   
"There's more lower down." He moaned, making as if to lower his pants.   
"I've no doubt of it! And you can bloody well do those yourself.....I'm not creaming your arse Malcolm, my friendship has boundaries, and rubbing stuff into your backside is crossing it!"   
"Some people would pay good money to do that." He retorted.  
"Yeah? Well it ain't gonna be me!" She laughed. "There, you're done. Leave your shirt off for a bit whilst it dries."   
Without her assistance he would have probably starved to death, or worse. She had taken care of him with a diligence that was humbling.   
Marie relayed all information on his condition in a daily bulletin to Sam.   
His place was like a charnel house. Short of painting a cross on his door, he was quarantined, as much as possible. Not that he felt like setting foot outside, but he was like a caged lion.   
Miserable, ill and bored. Not a good combination for Malcolm Tucker. 

He improved slowly, and began, eventually, to feel better.   
Whilst he was being lauded for his performance at the Conference, he was shut away, unable to participate in anything other than rest and eating.  
The result of this tender care, regular good meals and his medication, was that his stomach problem almost completely disappeared. The improvement was remarkable, and Marie was vindicated.  
"Just shows you! Regular habits, no stress, plenty of sleep. What a difference it's made." She said to him, one morning, when she'd called in to see how he was fairing. "You know what you should do Malcolm......when you're better? Take a holiday." She looked at him expectantly.  
"Pah! " he scoffed.   
"When was the last time? I bet it's been years!" She said, passing him a mug of tea.   
"Fuck off! I'm not doing it! I need to get back to work. ASAP!" He sipped from the cup, not meeting her eye.  
"You don't though, do you? Not really. You could do anything. You could jack it all in. Do something else. Go abroad, travel, relax, get properly well. You could have a new life. You've got money, your house is paid for.....what's to stop you?"   
Malcolm looked at her as if she were completely bananas.   
"I can't do that! Where the fuck would I go?" He replied.   
"Anywhere you wanted. For as long as you wanted. You could write, I bet you'd be brilliant. You used to be a journalist, it's in your blood." She smiled eagerly.  
"Who told you that? No, don't tell me, you've been talking to Sam! In fact I bet this is more of you and Sam plotting......lets get Malcolm to quit.......you two are incorrigible. The pair of you, trying to run my life. Fucking hell." He scowled.   
"I haven't spoken to Sam about it at all. But she'd agree with me, she wants you to quit. She wants you to have a life Malcolm, outside of this fucking awful job." Marie began washing up cups at the sink.   
"Where would be the fun anyway? Traveling on my own. Billy fucking no mates. Fucked if I'm doing that." He slid from his seat in the kitchen, bare chested, dots of pink all over him, he looked like a living Jackson Pollock, but not particularly bothered in front of her, she'd seen him like that many times over the last three or four days, he'd ceased to care, and, he noticed, she always averted her gaze.   
"I need a t-shirt." He announced, "it's chilly."   
"Well. I'm off home, Malcolm. You don't need me hanging around you now, you're okay to take care of yourself. The spots will be going soon, and you'll be well again."   
Malcolm's face fell.   
"Oh. Okay. I'll see you sometime then?" He said dully.   
"Yeah. Course. Ring me if you need to. But I'm sure you'll be fine. And you're allowed out, from tomorrow, so you'll soon be back to normal."   
She gave him a peck on both cheeks and made for the door. Malcolm followed her, his feet shuffling in his slippers.   
"Bye then. See you."   
She turned and gave him a friendly wave. She couldn't help but notice how downcast he looked.   
Fucking hell!   
Why did he feel so empty again? Just like he had in Berlin.   
Like there was some huge thing missing in his life, that he just couldn't find. Yet nothing had changed. He'd been on his own for ages. He didn't need anyone or anything......did he?


	10. By Way of a Thank You.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is back at work.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it's Marie's turn to be an idiot........

CHAPTER TEN  
BY WAY OF A THANK YOU.

It was over a week before Malcolm saw Marie again.   
He was back at work, and trying to organise interviews for prospective PA's. As predicted, he was not finding it at all easy. In fact it was a fucking pain in the proverbial.   
Not only were none of the candidates remotely as well qualified as Sam, they were simply just not Sam!   
A couple of them looked so young, Malcolm was thinking he'd need to start a crèche. Another was clearly completely terrified of him, and sat like a little mouse, trembling every time he opened his mouth. For fucks sake, it was hopeless.   
When Marie appeared, he brightened visibly.   
"Don't know anyone who'd make a good PA, I suppose?" He sighed, as she took a seat opposite his desk. She'd bought them coffee, latte's in takeaway cups.   
"Nope, 'fraid not! I'm sure you'll find someone!" She removed the plastic lid and added a sweetener.  
"You wouldn't consider it I suppose?" He raised his eyebrows hopefully.  
"Fuck no! Why would I want to work for you? You're a bloody nightmare! Besides, I'm not a PA, I'm an economist."  
Malcolm huffed.  
"Would it so bad? Working for me?"   
"Your reputation precedes you Malcolm. You're rude, you swear a lot, you work crazy hours and every now and then you lose it and go completely mental......I'm astonished they're not queuing up down the corridor!"  
He leaned back in his chair, and laughed, pushing his glasses up to his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose.  
Then he seemed to remember something, and reached into his desk drawer.   
"I almost forgot.....I was waiting to see you personally." He began, and handed her an envelope.  
"What's this?" She asked, turning it over in her hands.   
"It's a thank you......for looking after me, open it." His face looked eager, expectant, his eyes shining.  
"Malcolm, you didn't have to........"  
Breaking the seal, she peered inside, and pulled out two theatre tickets, for The Woman in Black at the Fortune Theatre......second row, right in the centre.   
"Oh my god! How did you know? I've wanted to see this for so long! It was impossible to get tickets.....however did you manage it?"   
"Pulled a few strings.....perks of the job! I know a man who can!" Malcolm beamed.  
She came around in front of him, as he sat at his desk, and gave him an awkward hug.   
" 'Kay! That would have been better if you were standing up!" She laughed, straightening up again.  
Malcolm obeyed, and was once more enveloped. Her arms were around his neck, her face inches from his, his first instinct was to kiss her, but he thought better of it. Then he realised that this was a new sensation, that he'd actually felt he wanted to kiss her. A lot.   
Fuck!   
She smelled like heaven, and her hair was soft and silky, had he noticed before what lovely skin she had?   
She released him and stepped back, flushed and slightly flustered.   
"I can't believe you got these! Did Sam tell you? I guess she did." She asked coyly.   
He looked puzzled.   
"Sam? What's she got to do with it?"   
"Well, I thought she might have mentioned to you, that I wanted to see this?" It was Marie's turn to be flummoxed.  
"No, I haven't spoken to Sam. I just wanted to take you out, to say thank you, and to......well, just take you out! I thought I'd book a table somewhere too, if you're up for it?"   
"So you came up with this on your own?" Her face registered incredulity.   
"Well......yeah.......is it okay?" His happy face changed to concern.  
"Okay? Okay? Course it's okay? It's amazingly more than okay! It's brilliant. Thanks so much!"   
She would have hugged him again, but Malcolm sat down again hurriedly. 

oOo

Never in his wildest dreams could Malcolm have hit upon a better stage show to take Marie to, on their first date.   
Was it a date?   
They weren't calling it a date. It was just her going out with him, as friends, to the theatre, and for a meal, because he wanted to say thank you.  
So not a date......

Anyway!

He couldn't have picked a better show.   
Why?   
Because it was fucking scary, that's why. It was atmospheric, spine-chilling and downright sinister. Dark stage sets, the Woman in a poke bonnet, an eerie disembodied white face, a rocking chair that rocked on its own!  
What was so good about that?   
Well, Marie was petrified, and spent most of the first Act clinging to his arm, and most of the second almost in his lap! Every time another spooky thing occurred she clutched him tighter. Jumped almost out of her skin, and at one point, when the mysterious spectral Woman swept silently down the aisle through the auditorium, she buried her face into his chest. 

Yes!   
It was a bloody good show. Malcolm enjoyed every second of it. Thoroughly! 

When they emerged into the cool evening, she was full of it. He'd never seen her so animated, so full of joy, so excited.   
The Fortune Theatre was near Covent Garden and the place he'd booked not far, so they decided to walk.   
Clos Maggiore was a little French restaurant with greenery all over the ceiling, a log fire and little twinkly lights, small and intimate, and great cuisine.   
If there was one thing Malcolm knew about, in his line of work, it was the very best places. He could get tables pretty much anywhere too, somehow he could wangle it, make a few phone calls, pull in a favour, tug some strings.   
As they entered, Marie looked up and around her in awe.  
"Oh,Malcolm, this is be-oooot-iful." She whispered, as they were shown to a quiet table in the best corner.   
They ordered drinks, and when they arrived Malcolm proposed a toast.  
"Thank you for taking care of me Marie. You were a diamond, and I'm so thankful for your friendship, and I'm sorry if I was a miserable fucker, but in my defence, I did feel like shit!"   
She laughed, heartily.   
"To friendship!" She pronounced, they clinked glasses.   
The evening was a lovely one.   
Food and a little wine, a pleasant ambience.   
Talk, relaxed, easy talk. No pretence, no uncomfortable moments.   
They ate in companionable silence, every so often a hum of appreciation at the glorious taste of the food.   
They tried each other's starters, she reaching across to him with a forkful of hers, and placing it into his mouth, he preferring to cut off some of his and deposit it on the side of her plate.   
After dinner they strolled along The Strand. She threaded her arm through his own and walked close to him, and Malcolm felt as though his feet weren't touching the ground.   
Lighter than air, and happy as fuck. 

"It's early yet, and no work tomorrow, fancy a night cap? My place?" He seemed so eager, his eyes shining, but for a moment she almost demurred.   
"I don't know if I should......." She hesitated.   
"It's not obligatory, just thought......you know, round the evening off?" He backtracked hastily, his face changing, his disappointment evident.   
"Okay then, just for a little while. Then I must get home." She replied. 

He let them in, standing back to allow her to enter the hallway ahead of him.   
Switching on the lights, and piloting her with a guiding hand on the small of her back, towards the kitchen.  
"Coffee? Glass of something?" He asked, rubbing his cold hands together, as if preparing to perform a magic trick.   
"Coffee, please, I don't think I want anything else to drink, I've had enough with the wine."   
He turned away, fiddling with the coffee machine, finding cups, heating milk.   
She watched, silently.   
When he turned back to her, his look was confusing, she couldn't read it. His lids hooded and heavy, tongue darting out to moisten his lips.   
"I've had a lovely evening Malcolm." She said softly.   
Taking her words as his cue, he moved closer. His hands coming to rest first on her forearms, then sliding up towards her shoulders and slowly wrapping around her body, pulling her into him.   
"Malcolm?" Her voice was almost inaudible, broken, frightened.   
"Let me." He rasped, bending his head down at an angle he let his lips brush hers, gently at first, but then, when she didn't try to pull away, deepening, covering her mouth, devouring. He was tasting her, teasing her bottom lip, stealing away the breath from her lungs.   
Tiny mewling sounds left her, sounds that she was ashamed of.   
As he paused a moment to look down at her, his eyes blazing hot, she managed to bring her hands up against his chest, applying just enough pressure to push him back a little.   
"Please, Malcolm, please don't! Don't spoil it."   
He released her in an instant, bringing his arms out to the sides, holding them away from her, although his body still crowded hers.   
"Friends, you said just friends." She whimpered.   
"Can't we be friends who do this?" He implored. "I've wanted to kiss you for a while, but it never seemed to be the right moment."   
Bringing his mouth to join hers for a second time, she fought a battle with herself to keep control, a fight for which she had very little stamina.   
For a few seconds she melted into him, she could feel his heat, his tongue begging entrance, and her body screamed for it, she wanted nothing more than to give in, surrender herself completely and utterly, but her mind rebelled.   
"Malcolm, no! Please! I can't.......I just......I don't want......." She turned her face to the side, to avoid the touch of his mouth on hers, so instead he kissed down her cheek, to her chin, her throat, little caressing kisses, as his arms reeled her in again. "I promised myself I wouldn't.......not ever again." She broke free, backing away, wrenching herself from his renewed embrace, "I'll just get hurt and I can't. I can't do that again, I can't go through it. It'll break me."   
Her eyes were brimming with tears, which she tried in vain to quell. Malcolm's breathing was erratic, pupils blown, his whole body tense as a bowstring.   
"But Marie, I need you." He said simply.   
"Well, I don't need you." She said, suddenly strengthening her resolve. "Not like that. I don't!"   
His face crumpled as if in great pain. His mouth trembled, the corners dragged downwards, his chin puckering with the effort to remain in command of himself. His expression one of utter helplessness.   
"I'll stop then. If that's what you want. But I don't believe you. You kissed me back, you wanted me, like I wanted you. You're afraid. I get it, so am I.......but I.....please Marie, please don't push me away!"   
"You don't understand, you don't. You can't possibly know." She began to sob in spite of her attempted show of bravado.  
"Then help me, help me to understand!" He cried in exasperation, holding his hands out to her, palms uppermost. "Tell me Marie, fucking tell me, tell me you don't feel there's something here, between us! Because I think there is!"   
She shook her head from side to side, her mouth working, her tears hot and fierce, she poked a finger towards his chest, to emphasise her words.  
"You want me to tell you....I'll fucking tell you. I married a dick Malcolm. A fucking dick! I loved him more than life itself! I bore him two children, but he cheated on me, then he got drunk one night and beat the crap out of me. There! Now you know! I've had to make a life for myself, alone. So don't fucking tell me I need you. I don't! I don't! I fucking don't!"   
She broke then, sinking down, taking him down with her, onto his knees.   
He held her close, her head against his chest, she wept as if her heart would break, from his knees he sat down on the kitchen floor, pulling her between his legs, rocking her gently. One arm around her, the other hand resting on the back of her head cradling it.   
He hushed her over and over, placing kisses against her hair. Whispering into her ear.   
Words of support, of placation, of comfort.   
"It's okay. It's Okay. You cry. Just cry. Let it out. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Marie. I'm sorry he was a dick and I'm sorry those things happened to you. If I could take it away I would.....but I can't. But I can be there for you, I can. If that's all you want, then that's what I'll have to be content with. I won't push you. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I wouldn't hurt you, not for the world. I wouldn't Marie. I'm not him......I'm not......I care about you. And if it's enough for you then it's enough for me."   
His shirt was soaked, as she pulled her head away. She wiped her face on the back of her hand, sniffling and blowing her nose on a tissue he passed to her.   
Standing, he held a hand out to her, hauling her to her feet, then crushing her close to him again.   
The scent of his cologne, the softness of his shirt, his warmth, were all intoxicating.   
But she wouldn't allow herself to be sucked in.   
"I'm sorry Malcolm. I'm sorry, I can't give you what you want. You deserve better, you deserve the best, and it's not me. I'm sorry." 

An hour later, they were sitting side by side, their hands clasped. Both nursing a glass of brandy.   
He looked at her intently, his thumb sweeping over the back of her hand, tender, soothing.  
"This wasn't exactly how I saw this evening panning out." He remarked. "I just wanted to thank you, for being there for me. That's all. I didn't plan anything Marie.....you have to believe me. It just happened."  
Her eyes were still dewy with tears, but she spoke calmly.  
"It's my fault, I should have told you my history, right from the start, but I wasn't honest with myself, or you, and I'm sorry, Malcolm. I just don't think I can do more than friends. At least not now. Maybe one day, but not now. Is that okay?"   
"Of course it's okay. But I haven't lost hope, if that's alright with you. You said 'one day'. That's what I'm focussing on. In the meantime I'm your friend, okay?"   
His arm snaked around her shoulder, squeezing gently.   
"Okay. Thank you Malcolm. You are a friend, a good one. And I'm lucky I have you. I am."   
He rose to his feet. Draining his glass.   
"I'm going to call you a cab. Take you home. You have a good weekend, and I'll see you in the week sometime, maybe grab a coffee or lunch?"  
"Yeah. That'll be good. Text me, if you're not too busy, and I'll meet you." 

When the taxi honked its horn outside, he went to the door with her.   
Before she left the house, she turned and buried her head into the crook of his neck, a tremble running through her.   
"Goodnight Malcolm. It was a truly wonderful evening, it was.......truly."   
He watched the car pull away.   
Walked back inside, closed his front door.......

.......and broke down.


	11. A Friend in Need......

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm steps up to the plate......big time!!

CHAPTER ELEVEN.  
A FRIEND IN NEED........

The ensuing week was no less hectic than any other. Malcolm was hurled back into the whirlwind without his feet touching the ground.  
The Shadow Chancellor made some extremely regrettable comments about Mrs Thatcher and caused media outrage.  
It wasn't the first time he'd committed a major faux pas. The House of Commons was still reeling from the Chairman Mao episode, now this.  
Malcolm was beside himself.  
How could he possibly do anything to make this prick look less of a prick?  
It simply wasn't possible. There was only so much spin that the Director of Communications could spin, and this was beginning to look like a Merry-go-Round.  
For fucks sake!  
Three days straight and Malcolm barely saw the outside of the four walls of his office. The phone was permanently clamped to the side of his head, as he fielded blows like a besuited ninja.  
Sam did her best to protect him from some of the flak. Knowing he'd been ill and was not as strong  
of constitution as he once was. But even she could only do so much. 

Consequently the week flew by and he had neither time nor inclination to meet up with Marie.  
Frankly he couldn't cope with anything other than this latest crisis.  
His evening with her had left him shattered, both physically and mentally.  
Alone in his home afterwards he sat down and did some very serious thinking.  
His health was precarious, he knew it. His life was a mess, he knew that too. Tiny seeds in his mind were forming. He needed to make changes.  
At the back of his brain a still small voice kept saying, 'but you know nothing else, this is what you do, you are good at it, just give it another shot' ..........and so he had.  
No sooner had he returned, than everything blew up again.  
Three days.  
Four, maybe five hours sleep, tops. Barely time to eat. 

Marie came into Malcolm's office. She was attending a meeting to discuss the Opposition's economic policy, so in that respect they were now working on the 'same side'.  
She and Sam greeted each other warmly, if briefly.  
Her timing, however, was unfortunate.  
Moments before her arrival, Malcolm was suddenly overcome with nausea.  
His office was empty and quiet.  
"Where's Malcolm?" She asked Sam.  
His PA was completely snowed under with a vast volume of work.  
"Um.....I think he went to the bathroom." She replied, without looking up from her screen.  
Marie headed straight for the gents toilet, and marched in without ceremony.

Malcolm was by the sink, leaning over, his stomach heaving. 

She said nothing, but placed a hand gently on the back of his neck, squeezing slightly.  
"Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!" He spluttered, saliva hung from his mouth in a long string, and his eyes were watering with the effort of retching.  
He was white, almost transparent.  
Still she said nothing, but sat him down on a plastic chair, and taking a handful of paper towels, she began to wipe his mouth for him.  
"Jesus, Marie, how is it you always turn up when I'm at my worst, like this?  
"Not sure. Must be my spidey sense!" She smiled. "Come on, clean yourself up, we are going to lunch."  
"Fuck no....I can't, love. I'm right in the middle......"  
"Lunch. You. Me. Now. No arguments. You need to stop Malcolm, whatever is going on, it'll still go on for the next hour. You're going to collapse if you carry on like this. Let's go."  
He flashed her a wan smile, but followed her meekly out into the vestibule.  
"Can you hold the fort Sam? Just for an hour......."  
His PA did not reply, but leaving her seat, she fetched his coat and scarf, holding it for him to slide his arms inside, she went up on tiptoes to wrap the scarf around his neck.  
"Make it two Malcolm." She whispered, patting him on the lapels. Then returned to her desk. 

The breath of the outside air felt sweet as nectar. Cool and crisp. The sky was blue and cloudless, a slight breeze ruffled his hair.  
They walked.  
Standing by Westminster Bridge, his hands clutching the railings tightly, his knuckles white, he sucked in great lungfuls, as if he'd just resurfaced from a long spell underwater.  
"Oh fuck! That feels good." He breathed, closing his eyes.  
"Come on, let's find a place to eat." Marie took his arm and they made their way to a small trattoria a few hundred yards away. 

They ate in silence. Neither quite sure what to say to the other.  
"Bad this time, yeah?" She observed eventually.  
"Yeah. And I've been good up to now. This fucking job is literally killing me!"  
She offered no comment, but sipped from her water glass thoughtfully.  
"I'm working for your lot now." She tried, but the conversation was stilted, not the same as the lovely evening they'd had at the theatre. Marie felt irrepressibly sad, as if her words to him later that night had changed everything, and they'd never be like that again.  
She wanted to cry, her chest ached. A pain that she could neither describe nor address.  
Malcolm was shovelling pasta into his mouth as if he'd not eaten for days.  
"You'll get indigestion." She remarked.  
"Shut up!" He snapped, with mock anger. "I'm ravenous!"  
"Sorry!" She said softly.  
"Don't be. I expect I'll live." He retorted. 

Just as they'd finished their food and ordered coffee, her phone trilled.  
Checking the display, her face changed.  
"I need to take this Malcolm. Please excuse me!" She rose and leaving the table she went outside, he could see her through the window, standing on the pavement, clutching her jacket against the cold.  
First a hand went up to her mouth, eyes wide in obvious horror, face blanched, then the conversation seemed to turn and she began to pace up and down. He saw her take out a tissue and dab her face. As he watched, she rang off, then he saw her try to collect herself, drying her eyes, pinching her pale cheeks with her fingers, smoothing the front of her skirt, taking two or three deep breaths, before plunging back inside.  
He pretended to be engrossed in his cappuccino, as she sat down opposite him again.  
"All good?" He asked quietly, his eyes searching her face.  
"Fine!" She replied airily. Picking up her own cup and saucer.  
To her surprise Malcolm gave a shake of his head and a half chuckle.  
"You know, you really are a fucking terrible liar!" He remarked. "Friends........isn't that what we agreed? Or can't we manage it now......after last week? Are you so far removed from allowing anyone to care for you, that you spurn friendship too? Or is it just MY friendship in particular?"  
For a moment her face was a mask, then it crumpled like a sheet of yesterday's newspaper, her shoulders began to shake, as she started to cry.  
Malcolm was out of his seat and holding her in an awkward embrace, in seconds.  
"What the fuck's happened? Tell me! I want to help." He murmured, his mouth close to her ear.  
It took several moments before she could speak again, but gradually, between sobs, out came the gist of the phone call.  
Her parents lived up North. A remote village in Yorkshire. It was the lady who lived next door calling. She'd given the number for emergencies. Her mother was her dad's main carer. He had dementia. She'd fallen on her way to the shops, broken her hip. Was in hospital. The neighbour had gone to the cottage, found both her dad and their home in a state, she was there now......what was she, as the only daughter, the only child, going to do about it?  
"Okay." Malcolm was thinking fast. "So, we go up there. Simple."  
"Simple? SIMPLE?" She gave a hollow laugh. "YOU can't just drop everything and go to Yorkshire, and I'm supposed to be having a load of meetings tomorrow."  
"I can. And I will. Nothing is more important. Your parents need you, they need help. You need a friend and YOU need help. There's no more to be said."  
He motioned to the waiter for the bill. Paid it and left a generous tip.  
"Come on. Let's get back to the office. I've got some phone calls to make."  
Marie stared with incredulity, he was suddenly in 'Tucker' mode. Taking charge. Thinking on his feet, planning a strategy, making contingency plans, it was quite terrifying, yet astonishing to witness. 

He strode purposefully into his office, coat flying. Face pinched and eager. Like a dog waiting for its master to throw a stick.  
"Sam, get John on the phone." He barked, "Tell him I'm going off for a few days. Someone will have to cover for me. Tell him to sort out the debacle with Chancellor Wank! Don't care how he does it.....in fact I don't care either way."  
"What shall I tell John is wrong? He's bound to ask!" She enquired, immediately grabbing the receiver, and not questioning the instruction.  
"Say whatever the fuck you like. Tell him I've had a relapse. Tell him I'm in rehab, or I'm having chemo. Tell him anything, I give no fucks. Then get the rail line......I need two tickets, London to York.....I think it's Grand Central......and I think it goes from Kings Cross. First Class if there's no second available, on the next available train. And I need a car......there'll be a hire firm in York. Nothing poncy, a four by four, something suitable for country roads, I want it at the station ready, when we get there. Give them my number, they can text me the model and registration on my way up."  
Marie looked on, from strong and independent to helpless and tearful, as Malcolm fired off his instructions and Sam.....with the consummate skill she possessed, calm and businesslike, just got on with it.  
She sat down next to Sam at the desk, stunned and silent, as they both swung into action on her behalf.  
Malcolm was speaking into his mobile.  
"Richard! Hello mate.....Tucker here! Yeah, you to, you cunt! Listen, you've got Marie Holden working with you.....that's right, yeah. Yeah, I know......she certainly is!" He glanced at Marie and smirked. "Well, she had meetings scheduled for tomorrow but due to a family crisis, she's going to need some compassionate leave. Yeah I know it's short notice, that's why it's a crisis! You dick! If I can arrange to get her meeting notes over to you by courier can you do a polyfilla job for me? You're a fucking star mate! Yep, I'll get them over to you ASAP. Let the guys at the fuck office know what's happening will you? There's a pal.....save me a phone call! My PA, Sam, will have all the details, and you can contact Marie through her if you need to. Cheers mate, I owe you one! Bye."  
He hung up and immediately dialled again. Sam placed a cup of tea beside the still inert Marie, as the events unfolded around her.  
"Susan! Hiya....it's Malcolm! Yeah, the very same! I need a big favour.....there's a meal in it for you at Georgios, you can take your beloved! Can you look up private respite care in the York area? Yeah, I want the best, and I want to book a bed, just in case..... No not for myself, you cheeky mare, although it might not be a bad idea! Yeah, full care, specialising in dementia. Well.... I'd do it when I get there, but I've a feeling I'll only have a phone signal standing on top of the moors with a 40 foot aerial strapped on my head, so I want to do it now before I leave. Excellent. Can you let Sam know when it's sorted? Yep....She'll book your table too! Never fear.....Tucker never goes back on his word! Bye love, thanks."  
Malcolm turned to Marie.  
"Right, you ready? Time to nip home and grab a bag.....I'll be at yours in a cab in....." He glanced at his watch...."Let's say, an hour?"  
Before Marie could even nod a reply, Sam butted in.  
"Malcolm! Train's booked.....and a car......Suzuki Vitara, all I could get at short notice. Tickets are printing off now. Kings Cross 2.15pm.....okay?"  
"Great. Thanks kemosabe! " 

Marie wiped her eyes, looking from Sam to Malcolm and back again, in utter disbelief. Emotions in disarray, doubtful that any single person could and would bend over backwards to help her in this way. Shocked beyond all reason, that one such as Malcolm, who was married to no one but his work, she'd always thought, would just drop everything like this, purely to help HER.  
"Why are you doing this?" She stammered.  
"Friends. Remember! You were there for me. Now I'm returning the favour." Malcolm rubbed her arm gently with one hand.  
"Come on!" He urged, " We must go grab some stuff, or we'll miss the train." 

At 2.17pm, seated next to each other in First Class, bags at their feet, Marie and Malcolm were on their way to York.


	12. ......Is a Friend Indeed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm's finest hour......

CHAPTER TWELVE  
......IS A FRIEND INDEED. 

The afternoon turned cold.   
The train interior was on Florida setting however. Hot and stuffy. Yawn inducing.   
Marie fell asleep on Malcolm's shoulder. His arm encircling her.   
He sat very still, so as not to disturb her.   
His mind was racing.

What the fuck was he doing? 

He'd never once done anything outside of work like this before. Impetuous. Reckless. Dropped everything, not given a flying fuck.   
He truly didn't care, not one whit.   
Not anymore.   
He realised it for the first time when he walked back into his office following his quarantine and found nothing had changed.......nothing, and it never would.   
Something happened to him the evening after the theatre too.   
A combination of events.   
Big. Momentous even.   
She'd rejected him. Told him 'no'.  
It rocked him to the core. He was used to seeing something he wanted, reaching out and taking it. 

Not this time. 

This time he had to earn the right, prove himself, as he'd never had to in his whole life, where relationships were concerned. Sure he'd shown them what he could do in the work situation, demonstrated his capabilities time and time again, battled the class defined odds for everything he'd ever achieved, but not in his private life. He'd never had to fight and win, never had to overcome. Not even when he'd married, it had been handed to him on a plate, on that occasion HE was the conquest. One in a long line of similar fools his ex had vanquished, as it turned out.  
Now it was different, Marie didn't want him, not like that, that's what she'd said. And so he must show her he was worthy of her. 

She was worth the effort. 

He'd decided it that night, after she'd left him. When he'd closed his front door, watched her drive away and cried like a baby.   
He knew he must tread carefully. He knew he mustn't push, no matter how much his treacherous body and tortured mind rebelled. He MUST wait. Be patient.   
Until she was ready......IF she ever would be.......and he HAD to believe she would, one day, otherwise what was the point of anything? Why were they even placed here? On this earth? If not to be together.   
One day.

He sighed, and she stirred, sitting up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  
"We're nearly there." He said softly. 

oOo

It was almost dark when they arrived. Late afternoon. A dusky pink twilight, creeping over the hills, a soft fleece blanketed stillness.  
Malcolm parked and she hurried inside. He followed in her wake. 

The place was a mess.  
A pigsty.   
There was a smell that could not quite be defined.   
Dirty crockery everywhere. Unwashed clothes. Newspapers in piles, correspondence unopened and unanswered.   
Sitting in the midst of the ruin that was once their home, was her old man.   
"Dad!" She cried, and made to hug him.   
"They've taken my Pammy." He bleated. "Where is she?"   
"Oh Dad!" She wept to see him.   
Malcolm's eyes scanned the wreckage.  
"When was the last time you were here?" He asked quietly.  
"Six months ago, but we speak twice a week on the phone, and she said everything's fine. Oh god Malcolm! To think they've been living like this. Why didn't she tell me she couldn't cope? She's always so chatty, full of laughter......we're fine dear.....don't you worry about us dear......"  
She tailed off, surveying the carnage around her and the unshaven, dirty man that was her father, seated in amongst it.   
The place was cold, and musty too.   
Malcolm set to work to get some heating going, lighting the fire in the living room.  
"You'd better go to the hospital and see your mum. Leave me here with your dad, I'll sort him out. What's his name?"  
"George." She whispered helplessly, gazing around her in despair.  
"Marie! Focus! Go to the hospital and see your mum, she'll be worried sick about him. Leave me here.....I'll sort something out......okay?"   
Numbly, she turned to go.   
"He doesn't know you....he'll be confused." She muttered.   
"He hardly seems to know you either. What's the difference?" Malcolm replied. "Now go. We'll muddle through......won't we George?" He turned to the old man, who blinked back at him pathetically.  
"Dad, this is Malcolm. He's my friend." She said, kneeling down in front of him, " he's going to take care of you, while I visit mum. Is that okay?"   
"Marie! You're here! Thank God! You gonna get my Pammy? They've taken her you know!" Her father replied sadly. 

oOo

Malcolm hardly knew where to start.   
The man, or the debris.   
He decided on the man.   
Her father was small, wiry, like a whippet. A cloud of unruly white hair, he resembled Christopher Lloyd in Back to the Future, except older. Wild looking and dishevelled.   
Shirt and cardigan were stained and grubby. He looked like he needed a damn good wash.

Leaving him sitting where he was, Malcolm made sure the boiler was on.....why hadn't it been on already? Saving money on bills? Who knew!   
Soon the immersion was hot, the central heating radiators chugged into action and the house began to feel warmer and cosier.   
"Come on George, me old mate, let's get you upstairs and in the bath, yeah?"   
Although frail, he was perfectly mobile, could manage the toilet, could walk unaided, it was just that he seemed to have forgotten how to do ordinary, every day things. He stood, as if lost, hands by his sides, waiting for something to happen.  
Malcolm helped him undress, took his hand gently and guided him in, lowering him into the water. His skin was like tissue paper, delicate and fragile, every bone stuck out, but he didn't look malnourished, just a bit dirty and smelling strongly of B.O.  
Malcolm was reminded how different this man was from his own father who was beefy and muscular.   
Finding a plastic jug he washed the fluff of white hair and rinsed it, as the poor soul sat there obediently, allowing himself to be attended to.   
He fretted constantly about his wife, firing question after question, then forgetting the answer and repeating the same query moments later, but Malcolm did his best to soothe him.   
Afterwards, taking his spidery hand and easing the old man out and onto the bathmat, he was dried and redressed in clean clothes, his hair combed back and tamed.  
"That was my girl, you came with?" He asked, looking into Malcolm's face hopefully. "My Marie?"   
"Yeah. It was." Malcolm smiled back at him.  
The old man seemed to consider for a moment.  
"She's a dear, my girl. She's had a rotten time of it, you know. Married to that arse wipe!"   
"Yeah, she told me. Come on George. You're done. Let's get you downstairs and find you some grub."   
They made their way down together and through the hallway.

The kitchen looked like a bomb site. Sitting him at the table, Malcolm decided to do a bit of clearing up, whilst talking to the old boy at the same time, to keep his mind from worriting.  
"What she needs is someone to care for her, she's always caring for everyone else. That's what she does. She cares too much, gives too much, then gets a slap in the face. Happens every time."   
"I'm trying to care for her, George, but she won't have me. She's scared. But then, so am I!"   
The sink was full of soap suds as he washed up the dirty crocks, put them away and began to wipe down the filthy surfaces.   
"What's your name again, son?" He enquired, tilting his head to the side like a curious bird.  
"Malcolm. My name is Malcolm."   
"Ah! Scots?"   
"Yes, Glaswegian. I live in London though." Malcolm began hunting in the cupboards for anything edible.   
"You're Jock! And you work with our Marie?" He continued.  
"Well, kind of. We met through work. And she's helped me, taken care of me, I was ill."   
Some chicken joints and vegetables were in the fridge. Potatoes in a basket under the sink.  
Chicken stew it was then!   
"That'll be Marie! You'll take care of her though, won't you Jock? Be kind to her? That's what she needs."  
"I'll do my best George. If she'll have me. I promise." This seemed to satisfy him, and he moved on.  
"My Pamela, Pammy, she's my dear one. They've taken her away you know. Will Marie bring her back?"   
"Maybe in a week or so, she'll need an op, mate, she's broken her hip. She fell, by the shops."   
He tutted. Shaking his head.  
Malcolm wasn't sure if he really understood. 

Once the dinner was on the go, it was time to tackle the living room.   
Barely an inch of space wasn't covered with rubbish of one kind or another. Sitting her father beside the fire, Malcolm set to work trying to put the room to rights as best he could.  
Mountains of unopened post, piles of dirty laundry. God knows what.  
The washing machine groaned under the task given to it. It wouldn't all fit in, but it was a start.   
Malcolm very much hoped the machine wasn't faulty.....although it seemed to be behaving itself at the moment! 

oOo

 

It was several hours before Marie returned.   
She found her father, enthroned in the living room, beside a roaring fire, tucking into a plate of chicken stew, from a tray on his lap. The television on, which seemed to hold his attention, and calm him.   
Malcolm was in the kitchen, still trying to clean and return things to some semblance of normality.   
"Hey!" He smiled as she walked in.   
She moved straight across to him, in a rush, into his arms, her head against him, fighting to control her tears.   
He held her tight, his hand rubbing her back slowly.   
"It's okay. It's okay." He soothed. "How's mum?"  
"Not too bad! She going down to theatre in a while. They told me not to stay. I'll ring later to see if she's out. Go back in the morning."   
She sounded exhausted, wrung out.   
"Look what you've been doing!" She glanced around her, not relinquishing his embrace.  
"It's pretty much surface muck mainly. I've done my best. Your dad's had a bath. No offence, but he needed one! He's eating his tea. There's more in the pot if you want some."  
"Malcolm, I can't believe you're here. And you've done all this for me. I really can't. I can never, ever thank you, for what you've done today. Never. There are no words."  
"Look, we're friends. Yeah? You looked after me, now it's my turn." He smiled down at her.  
"But this is above and beyond the call of duty. It really is. You bathed my dad for Christ's sake!"   
He placed a kiss on her forehead. His chest ached and he found himself trembling involuntarily. He dared to pull her closer, and she did not flinch.  
Standing, together, entwined.   
It was more than he could have hoped for.


	13. From Better to Betterer!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover why George likes Malcolm so much.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note about George. Let's make no bones about it Dementia is a fucker!  
> I've had an awful lot of experience of it from a professional POV. George is in the fairly early stages, but dementia care for the main carer is fucking hard work, it's constant, day and night and it doesn't go away. It's like you lose the person long before they actually die.  
> But it's not all bad news, medical advances are happening all the time, and we are understanding more and more about how dementia works, so one day we may be able to arrest the disease completly.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.  
FROM BETTER TO BETTERER! 

Over the course of the following week, most of Marie and Malcolm's time was spent tripping to and fro from the village to the hospital.  
They soon discovered that taking George into the ward to visit his beloved Pammy, upset him greatly.  
He became agitated and confused, out of his comfort zone. Away from his familiar sights, sounds and smells.  
It seemed that Malcolm's presence was the only thing that really calmed him. As long as he wasn't far away, the old man seemed reasonably content.  
What it was about Malcolm that soothed him, no one was sure, whether it was the timbre of his voice, his accent, his bearing, or his patience and assured manner. No one knew, then.  
The two were sitting beside each other now, next to Pamela's bed, Malcolm speaking quietly to him, he, listening intently, head cocked to one side. Malcolm was recounting a story of his own Da.  
"He worked on the docks, your Pa then, Jock?" He said, nodding sagely.  
"Yeah. He wasn't a very nice man George. Not like you!"  
Marie couldn't help but listen. The way her father concentrated on Malcolm's words, and how, as they spoke together, Malcolm would clasp or pat his hand reassuringly.  
Her own opinion of Malcolm had soared sky high over the preceding days. His kindness, his stoicism, his careful attention to her father, and his patience with him, were nothing short of astounding.  
Her Dad seemed to have latched on to him, imprinted, like a chick to a mother hen.  
If Malcolm was in the kitchen, then George would be there too, sitting at the table, asking him question after question. He would follow him into the living room, shuffling along in his slip stream, constantly needing more comforting words.  
_"Where we goin now, Jock?" "Is it time for tea yet?" "Can you put my programme on Jock?"_  
A stream of almost pathetic pleas for a gentle confidence boost, to hearten, reassure or cheer him.  
Malcolm would make sure he was settled and comfortable and felt secure, before leaving him to go on to the next task. Within five minutes he would be at his side again, and the whole scene would replay itself for the umpteenth time, as George required yet another reminder, or more encouragement. 

It took him two or three days to get the house looking half way decent. While Marie spent as much time with her mother as possible.  
Eventually he rang a house cleaning company in York, and took George down to the local pub for lunch and to watch the football for a few hours, while they carried out a thorough floor to ceiling clean.  
As long as 'Jock' was around, George seemed placid and happy. 

Each evening, when she returned to the cottage, Marie and Malcolm would sit together, while she recounted her day.  
No more than a cuddle and a soft kiss of her hair or forehead. A quiet and blissful time for Malcolm, which he relished. If he were only to be fed on crumbs, then crumbs he would accept.  
He was sleeping on the couch in the living room, which was actually a pull out sofa-bed. Marie was upstairs in the spare room. Each night as they went their separate ways, Malcolm ached for her more and more.  
But he knew she could cope with nothing more at the moment. The time just wasn't right.  
He was, however, highly amused and informed by her father's astute observations in an exchange with his daughter, which he accidentally overheard one morning.....

 _"He's a fine lad, that Jock."_

"He is, Dad." 

_"How long you known him?"_

"A while now." 

_"Fine lad. I've known him for years you know."_

"What? No you haven't Dad, you met him the other day."

_"No! He's one of my best chums. We did our National Service together, in the Army. Lovely chap!"_

"Dad, that was years ago." 

_"Always liked him. Brave, and loyal too. Got me out of a scrape or two, I can tell you. Hard as nails on the outside, but kind hearted and a nice man through and through. You could do worse you know, love!"_

"Dad!!!! Malcolm is a friend." 

_"I should hope so. You couldn't marry someone who wasn't a friend."_

"I'm not marrying anyone I can assure you."

 _"Have you slept with him yet?"_

"No, Dad!! I bloody haven't. I don't want his conversation with you! I told you he's a friend." 

_"What's wrong with you girl? Don't you love him?"_

"Dad, it's complicated, you wouldn't understand." 

_"Don't be so bloody stupid. I've been married to your mother for nearly fifty years, I haven't forgotten what sex is........do you think I'm completely bats in the belfry?"_

"No dad I didn't mean that. I meant that, Malcolm and I......well, we haven't reached that point yet, I told him I wasn't interested in a relationship."

 _"And people tell me I'M losing my marbles! He loves you.....any person with half a brain can see that. The way he looks at you.....that's adoration that is......I still know it when I see it!"_

"Stop it Dad. Please don't go there. He's Malcolm, he's not your friend Jock! You're not losing your marbles, who told you that?"

_"Your mother! She says I'm going doolally. I keep forgetting things. S'funny, I remember some things as clear as day, like my old mate Jock, and meeting your mother, and when you were born. Then something else I'll completely forget, like.......brushing my teeth, or what I had for dinner. Then I get all in a tizzy. It's bloody confusing."_

"I know Dad. It must be frightening for you, but mum will be home soon and she's been doing a lot of thinking, while she's been in hospital. About coping. She suggested something to me the other day. She was wondering. How would you like to have a nice little flat, near me? So I could pop in and see you all the time? You could have carers come in, to help mum take care of you, and I could drop meals over and make sure you're both okay? How does that sound?" 

_"Us leave here you mean?"_

"Yeah. Would you really hate that do you think?" 

_"Would Jock be there? Would I see him still?"_

"Well, I can't speak for him Dad, but I'm sure he'd come and see you.....I'm sure he would, if I asked him." 

Malcolm felt a distinct lump in his throat, and turned way, not waiting to hear any more. Busying himself again in the living room with a pile of bills, he was systematically working his way through, and arranging to pay.  
Throughout the week he'd received regular communication from Sam. Keeping him in the loop, updating him on current events, things in London had not really changed, but he needed to know what was going on.  
Contrary to his initial fears, he did in fact have a phone signal, and when he heard the trilling of his mobile, he hurried outside into the garden to take the call. 

"Sam?" 

_"Malcolm! Hi. How's things?"_

"Not so bad. She'll be out next week, but having physio, and nurses and stuff, and I'm going to try to sort out a care package with social services. So that we can come home. I need you to do a few things for me Sam. How's shit there?" 

_"Nothing you need worry about Malcolm. They've drafted in that guy who used to work with Stuart Pearson. He knows what he's about, and he's getting on with it. He's not you, but he's capable enough. There are no more new applicants for my post, I'm afraid."_

"I don't give a shit about that Sam. I'm not going to need a replacement for you now anyway. I'm going to need you to help find me a nice little warden controlled flat, not too far, one bedroom, Careline facility, I don't want any old shit hole, something in a nice area, with shops nearby and a bit of community."

_"Okay. I'll get onto it. Malcolm, what did you mean, you're not going to need a replacement for me now?"_

"I'll talk to you about it when I get back. Not now. Not here. I need to talk face to face. Can you send me some links when you've found some places? I'd be grateful." 

_"Sure. Malc, are you sure everything's okay?"_

"Never better! Talk to you later Sam. Bye!" 

He hung up. Smiled to himself, then went back inside.  
Marie and her father looked at him expectantly.  
"What?" He challenged.  
"Was that Sam?" She asked, quietly.  
"Yeah. Just keeping me updated with the fuck office."  
He grinned at George, and winked.  
"Foul mouth Jock!" The old man winced, "Sam's not your lady friend I hope?"  
"No George!" He smiled. "I only have room for one girl in my life."  
With that he marched back into the living room to resume his paperwork. 

oOo

With her mother now at home and beginning to toddle about, Malcolm was helping Marie make last minute arrangements.  
A bed was brought down, and together they made her a bedroom in the downstairs back room, so that her mother didn't have to manage the stairs. Her father could sleep there too. Although the main bathroom was on the first floor, there was a perfectly adequate washroom and toilet downstairs that she could use.  
Carers were organised, and meals on wheels, until she was fit enough to resume cooking.  
Knowing someone would be going in each day to keep an eye, was a huge relief to Marie.  
Malcolm spent their last couple of days contacting estate agents, arranging valuations and sorting out the details of putting the cottage on the market.  
Taking the weight off Marie as much as he could. If there was one thing Malcolm was exceptionally good at, it was organising things! 

oOo

The journey home was uneventful enough. The thought of her leaving him and going back to her own place however, was almost unbearable to Malcolm. At least in Yorkshire he'd seen her every single day, and he'd quickly become accustomed to that.  
"Do you want to share a take away?" He asked hopefully. "I've done enough cooking for the time being, I think!"  
She smiled at him and covered his hand with hers.  
"Yes. Okay. Good idea. I'm too tired to cook for myself as well, and the thought of my cold empty house doesn't seem very appealing right now!"

Huddled together on the huge leather sofa in Malcolm's house, with the television playing softly in the background, Marie let out a sigh.  
"What's that for?" He murmured into her hair.  
"Thank you Malcolm." She responded, sitting up, and turning to look into his face. "What you've done these past couple of weeks. I could never have coped without you. You were strength, and support and help totally unlooked for. You're a dear!"  
"It's my pleasure." He replied.  
He pulled her back into his arms, and she settled there quietly. Warm, comfortable and very full up, it was not long before they both drifted into the land of Nod.


	14. Crossing the Rubicon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Marie have dozed off on the couch......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took so long to write!  
> I wanted to get it right, and I hope I have. It wasn't easy and I struggled and altered it and then changed it again, blah blah.....anyway, here it is!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.  
CROSSING THE RUBICON.

Sleep claimed them both for the best part of an hour.  
Marie woke to find the television still playing to itself, and she was huddled as close to Malcolm as she could possibly be. His wiry arms were wrapped around her upper body, his long fingers clasped together. There was a sense of innate strength in them, she could feel the tension of muscle and trace the blue path of the veins in his forearms.  
So warm, comfortable, and safe, she surprised herself greatly by not wishing to move one inch.  
A little sigh of contentment left her as she snuggled back down into him. Malcolm stirred, waking at the sound, yawning widely and making to unwrap himself from around her.  
She gave a small groan of protest, and gripped his hands with hers, to hold them securely in place.  
"You okay?" He asked, his voice was husky from sleep, deep and melodic.  
"Mmm hmm. Don't move. Hold me close." She whispered.  
She felt him place an affectionate kiss against the top of her head, and give a sigh of his own. Under her ear his heartbeat increased almost imperceptibly.  
She raised her head to look into his face. His eyes still dazed, lids heavy and hooded. His adoring look pierced her soul.

"Kiss me Malcolm." There was a slight tremor in her voice, a frisson of fear, and yet her gaze was steady, her mind clear.  
"Marie?"  
He was thrown, uncertain of her meaning, although it seemed self evident. His chest rose and fell a little more quickly but he made no attempt to move.  
Her courage almost failed her, but she shifted herself higher up the length of his body so that their faces were inches apart.  
"Please!" She begged.  
Emotion hit Malcolm like a punch in the gut, knocking the wind out of him, almost robbing him of speech. 

"Are you sure?" He hissed through his teeth. 

Beyond answering, she nodded emphatically, and his head strained forward towards hers.  
A slow and thorough envelopment, continual caressing kisses, capturing her lips over and over again in a flurry of long denied heat and desire.  
She moaned against his mouth wantonly, tilting back her head. He trailed down the line of her jaw to her neck and throat, nipping and suckling the tender skin there. Marking the hollow where her collar bones meet.  
His breath becoming fast and excited, hands moving to stroke across her body.  
"Tell me to stop, and I'll stop." He rasped. "Do. You. Really. Want this? Do you? Please. Say. Something!"  
Each fresh volley of words were punctuated by his lips pressed against her warm flesh.  
"Yes! Malcolm! Yes!" The final affirmative was swallowed by his latest onslaught, his tongue teasing gently, one hand sliding up under her blouse, deft and confident.  
Opening the buttons, eager to see and touch and expose more of her peachy skin. Unclipping her lace bra, and removing both with consummate ease.  
Oh! He knew what he was doing, this man.  
She gasped and pressed herself into him as his fingers ghosted over first one breast then the other, a touch of such delicacy that she almost cried out. 

"God, you are so beautiful. You're driving me to fucking madness. Don't tease me Marie, I'm losing my fucking reason here. If you don't want me, say so now, please.....I can't bear it."  
"Don't stop!" Was all she could manage in reply.  
"Marie, you're fucking killing me, I want you so badly I can't think straight." His hands seemed all over her now, pulling at her skirt, consumed with heat and passion and animal lust. 

"Take me to bed Malcolm." Her words almost lost in a gasp as his knee moved between her legs, pushing them apart. Their bodies separated momentarily as he shifted her forwards to stand up, reluctant to tear his lips from hers.  
Holding out a hand to her, he led her into his bedroom, nude from the waist up, discarded garments left behind, her hair falling over her face, eager, keening, her breathing erratic.  
Beside the bed he took her into his arms again and kissed her like a dying man, deep and long, slowly and gently sinking her down and backwards, cradling and surrounding her in a secure and protective embrace.  
Lifting his t-shirt over his head, he stripped it off, and threw it aside.  
One hand now held her arms firmly above her head by the wrists, as his mouth discovered then explored every inch of her newly exposed body. Covering her with tender kisses, little sucks and nibbles, lavishing all his attention on her naked flesh, extracting moans and wails from her, that only served to enflamed him further.

The whole world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them, immune, sheltered, cosseted from all the madness. Lost in each other. The reassuring weight of him over her, the air coming from his nose in short bursts as he fought to maintain his last vestige of composure, quell the rising stab of anticipation, the tremble running through his thin frame.  
Willing himself to take it slow, relish every moment that he'd waited so patiently for, but finding his mind and body defying him at every turn.  
Driving him onwards in a haze of lust and need. 

Once she attempted to release herself from his gripping hand, to bring her own hands down to touch him, but he arrested the movement, holding her firm, with a sharp intake of breath.  
"No! Wait! Not yet! This is about you." He whispered. "I'm out of control Marie, I'll come at the slightest touch I'm that desperate for you, I want you so badly, I'm burning." He buried his head into the crook of her neck, his touch lingering over her torso, circling and moving gradually lower, tugging her skirt undone, his fingers caressing the insides of her bare thighs.  
Her legs parted immediately for him, willing him higher to where she craved him, undulating her hips to encourage him on.  
His obvious and burgeoning erection so hard against her, like dynamite primed to explode. 

He still would not allow her to touch him, or even undo his straining trousers, as his fingers found the lace of her knickers and he stroked her there for the very first time. His questing fingers moving the material aside and circling gently and maddeningly, at the triangle of her pubic hair, then dipping down against that sweetest of spots, which caused her to arch her back and cry out his name.  
"Malcolm!"  
Sliding downwards with that clever mouth, ravishing her, first at her navel, travelling lower still, then between her thighs. With the first touch of the tip of his tongue against her she let out a long moan of ecstasy at the glorious sensation.  
Lapping at her, she writhed, she was lost, undone, her surrender complete.  
Nothing held back, she came with a scream, unable to last a second longer.  
He kissed a trail north again, peppering, pecking, recapturing her mouth, her taste still on his lips, then to her neck and earlobe.  
His voice whispering in her ear as she rode out the contractions of her inner walls, rough and throaty, the most salacious filth coming from him, as he told her exactly what he wanted to do to her next.  
Her breath entirely taken away, as her imagination ran riot at his words. 

There was no way on earth he could keep her at bay a moment longer, she needed to touch and hold and feel.......her hands were at his belt, urgently, then inside his trousers, pulling them clear, so that she could palm him. His hips had no compunction as he pushed them towards her, pleading with her not to spare him, falling apart under her hands.  
Taking his waistband she shimmied his underpants down, and his throbbing cock freed from it's confines.  
"Malcolm, I need that......now!" She whispered, her eyes taking him in, revelling in the sight of his thick, erect shaft as it stood to attention to meet her hungry gaze.  
Her fingernail dragged oh so teasingly down his length, tip to hilt, moisture pooling already from his slit, his testicles full and aching, the soft skin there yielding to her tender cupped hand.  
"Oh fuck!" He gasped, his eyes so drugged and heavy with desire, they were half closed with the sheer delight of this new height of pleasure she was taking him to. 

Taking him into her mouth, she worshipped him, sucking gently, blowing cool air on him, letting him feel her tongue against the sensitive engorged head, it was all he could do to stop himself thrusting into her mouth and down her throat, such was the intensity. She made quite sure their eyes met, as she took him in a second time, made certain he could see the want in her eyes, licking her lips seductively under his hypnotised gaze, then teasing the tip of her tongue right at the tip of him, tasting the salty wetness there, seeing his muscle twitch, the vein at the side pulse, his balls tightening, before she pulled away, and he cursed her under his breath.  
"You're going to fucking kill me. Fucking hell." Followed by a groan, as the feeling of being on the edge, so, so close ebbed away slightly.  
"Take me Malcolm. I need you, I want you. Now, please, please." She begged him shamelessly. 

He didn't need to be asked twice. He tugged down her knickers, removing them. Taking her legs behind the knees and placing them around his middle, looking into her lust filled eyes the entire time, Malcolm positioned himself at her entrance, teasing her with the tip of his penis, letting it rub against her swollen clit, not entering but holding himself just so that she could feel him there.  
"Oh Malcolm, Jesus!" She was trembling all over with desperation, utterly wrecked, wanting nothing more now than to feel him filling her, yet he held off for a few more seconds.  
Lifting herself, thrusting against him, in an effort to take him inside her.  
"You want this?" He asked, wickedly, deliberately keeping his voice low and feral, a slight smirk playing across his lips. "You want this in you? Do you? Do you? Say it.....tell me what you want."  
He let her feel his head again, just a nudge against her vagina.  
"Yes Malcolm please! Please fuck me, give it to me, please!"  
He penetrated her then, with a grunt, agonisingly slowly. Pushing inside her, then resting, not moving, as she adjusted to his girth.  
She let out a cry of sheer pleasure, as he stilled once more, withdrawing almost completely before thrusting back a second time, then taking up an easy rhythm, their bodies working in tandem, rising, falling, rocking one with the other. Driving deeper, hitting that spot inside her with each stroke, bringing her closer and closer to that precipice, hanging, teetering on the brink of oblivion.  
Kisses between panting breaths, mouth hot and insistent against her own, murmuring now as he came ever nearer to his peak. The zenith of all his power, everything that had led to this one single moment of bliss.

"Marie, I love you. Christ knows how much! Don't know myself!  
No words, Marie. No words. I'd fucking die for you. Anything. Oh fuck.....gonna come....."  
For a few precious wonderful seconds he hung between those moments, that irrepressible tickle of utter euphoria, a tendril of burning flame, then he was coming, spilling himself, an explosion of pure unadulterated love, coming and coming, crying out, the tendons in his neck taut and strained, mouth gaping open, his head falling forwards as his arms gave way. His life force, all his passion, his vitality, pulsing from him, satisfying and completing both himself and her, as her own orgasm crashed through her, taking him as deep as she physically could.  
"Malcolm! God, Malcolm, I love you so much." Her words barely audible, but no less heartfelt.  
She began to sob, and so did he, to his own chagrin, their tears mingling, with the sheer relief and beauty of the moment. Their foreheads pressed together. Her body's impulses ebbing gently, as he hushed her, soothing her, kissing and holding her close, rolling with her, their legs and arms entwined, their duel wetness ignored and irrelevant.  
Easing her down through the aftershocks, wiping her tears with a gentle sweep of his thumb, cradling, sheltering, their sweat drying on their sated bodies.  
Nerves that were tingling, now dulling down and relaxing. A delicious haze of warmth and contentment, both overcome with a weariness that was profound. 

Gradually, a stillness settled upon them. Their tears abated. Breathing returning to a gentle rising and falling. His head resting against her chest, the tickle of his hair between her breasts. Her hand stroking his scalp softly, and lazily, her fingers tangled in his curls, his softening member resting against her leg.  
Had they both said 'I love you' in the heat of their passion?  
There seemed no doubt of it.  
Malcolm's eyelids became heavier and heavier, drooping lower, as he fought the irresistible urge to sleep.  
"Oh Malcolm!" She murmured softly. "I am yours. Totally and completely. Don't break my heart."  
"Never!" He replied. "You've saved me from myself Marie. I belong to you. For what that's worth."  
She hummed and crooned to him, feathering her fingers across his temple, down his beaky nose, and they fell into the deepest, most restful post orgasmic slumber. Dreamless and restorative.  
Wrapped in each other's tight embrace.


	15. From a Great to Fucking Brilliant.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before......

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.  
FROM GREAT TO FUCKING BRILLIANT.

Laying very still. Staring up at the ceiling. Listening to the gentle even, breathing beside him.  
He dare not move. Mustn't wake her.   
Marie.   
Curled into his body, she was naked, he was naked.

It was fucking brilliant.

Her hair tickling his face, making him wrinkle his nose, so as not to sneeze.   
So close.   
Head tucked just under his chin, one arm slung casually over his chest. Her body   
dove-tailed with his, one leg under, one leg on top.   
Perilously close to castrating him with her knee.   
He was hard. Painfully so. Had been for some time in fact, since he first opened his eyes and took in his situation.   
A yellow shaft of pale winter sunlight shone through the gap in the curtain, the sound of a robin singing in the tree outside the window had woken him.

Opening his eyes onto a new and fucking spectacular day. 

Waking from a dream of sweetness and light, such as he hadn't experienced for many a long day.   
A beautiful woman nestled in his arms.  
A hint of her Chanel pervaded the air, the smell of sex even stronger. Thrilling, intoxicating.   
The sheets rumpled and tangled around and beneath them.   
She stirred slightly, whimpering and snuggling into his body, rubbing her face against his chest like a cat.   
His fingers slid smoothly down her arm, a caress of gratitude, of luck, of all the things he was feeling at this moment, laying on his back, stiff as a fucking poker, at the start of this new day. 

The first day. The first morning. He was floating on a cloud of exhilaration and disbelief. 

Her eyes opened. Blinking in the light.   
"Malcolm?" She murmured.   
"Morning sweetheart!" He whispered. She raised her head sleepily, touching his lips with a finger, tracing a line over them, down to his sandpaper chin.   
"No regrets?" He mewed, his voice soft and creamy with seduction.  
"Malcolm.....make me feel it again, like you did last night.......make me scream for you. I want that again. It was so wonderful. I never felt like that in my life before."   
"It would be my pleasure!" He smiled, turning her over and sinking into a languid kiss.   
To say he was well endowed was a bit of an understatement. Skinny as a greyhound, but with a cock like a ridge pole. 

Fucking amazing! 

This time he remained on his back and let her sink down onto him. Taking him inch by delicious inch, wet and slick and perfect.   
"Oh my fucking Christ!" He threw back his head as she rode him, her eyes closed, mouth open slightly, the most amazing sounds coming from her, merciless yet exquisite, all encompassing.  
Allowing him room to thrust himself up inside her, deep and magnificent and satisfying.   
His orgasm was frightening in its intensity, he almost blacked out. 

oOo

Warm water pummelled down onto them, the shower cubicle steamy as they soaped each other up, relishing the feel of their hands on each other's bodies. Skin on skin, his genitals against the apex of her legs. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her face cupped in his two hands.  
Sweet lazy kisses.   
"Malcolm, I love you." She whispered. "So, so much."   
"Marie......fuck........you are everything......how have you done this to me? I'm lost, I'm a fucking mess. Fuck! You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Love as a word doesn't even come close to describing what I feel right now!" 

Wrapped in towelling robes, hair combed back.   
The aroma of coffee, freshly brewed.   
Malcolm was busy scrambling eggs, while she made toast. Bacon under the grill.   
They were both ravenous.   
Try as they might they could not keep their hands off each other. A touch, a stroke, a little caress, a stolen kiss.  
Like first time lovers in the early flush of youth. New and exciting. 

Drunk with love. 

"What made you change your mind?" He asked tentatively.  
"Let's just say you won me over!" She smiled.   
"What did I do?" He held his hands out, a gesture of query, palms uppermost.  
"You crept up on me somehow! You showed me what I was missing, you've made yourself essential to me. When I needed you most, you were there. I'm not used to that. I normally look after myself, but the situation with mum and dad just floored me. It's a massive guilt trip, Malcolm. I should have known. Been aware. How can I call myself a daughter? Look at the state they were in."  
"Darling, how were you to know? You spoke to them regularly. They're not round the corner and you've been trying to establish yourself and build a career. You have to live. As far as you knew they were fine. Don't feel guilty. It's destructive, and it's pointless. It won't change a thing."  
He pulled her close, touching her damp hair, teasing her bottom lip with his kiss.   
"You were so wonderful with my dad Malcolm, he adores you!"   
"Only because he thinks I'm his old friend! He's a dear man Marie, and so vulnerable, bless him." 

oOo

Malcolm's first day back at the office was not one he'd been relishing. 

For a variety of reasons. 

Being back at work meant that he probably wouldn't see Marie every day, and frankly, that didn't sit well. He knew she'd have to to travel back and forth to her parents place anyway. 

It was also moving perilously close to the end of Sam's notice period, which meant he had to have the face to face talk he'd promised her. Which, to a certain extent, he'd put off. Not because he didn't want the talk.....he did. But once he'd had it, things were real, they could no longer be skirted around. 

The prospect of that scared Malcolm shitless. 

His one consolation was that his idea had taken shape before the change in his relationship with Marie, and was therefore not a consequence of it.   
For that he was eternally grateful. It meant he could say, in all clear conscience, that it was not because of her. 

Another valid reason was that he genuinely feared a relapse of his stomach condition, which had undergone such a vast improvement since he'd been away from the toxic work environment that he really didn't want a return to pain in his gut, retching and being sick every five minutes. 

That first morning he made several phone calls, and arranged various important meetings, quietly and surreptitiously, bypassing Sam completely. 

He spoke his PA when she bought him in his mid morning coffee.  
"Are you busy the weekend after next?"   
She looked at him suspiciously.  
"Why?" She asked, giving him a look that said, 'I'm not coming in to work at the weekend!'   
"There's no need to look like that!" He scolded." I was only going to ask you and John to dinner. My place. Can you get a baby sitter?"   
Sams eyes widened.  
"You.....are asking me.......to dinner......at your house?"   
"Yes! You and John. Is that so weird?" He sipped his latte, glaring at her over the rim of the cup.  
"Why no!" She exclaimed, sarcastically. "Many times in the last eight or so years I've been to yours for dinner, almost fortnightly in fact......sort of thing that happens all the time!"  
"Don't take the fucking piss! You've been to mine for a meal!" He snapped.  
"Malcolm. I have. Never. Been to yours. For a meal. Ever!" She retorted. " I may have had a sandwich or a lukewarm Chinese when we've been working our butts off, through some shit storm, but never a proper meal and certainly never in a social context."   
"Well. It's time that was rectified. You're leaving me soon, jumping ship, abandoning me to my fate, casting me aside like a worn out old shoe....."  
"Malcolm!" Her tone carried a note of warning.  
"..........and I want to ask you for a meal. So can you fucking come or not?" He continued, a wry smile of mirth spreading across his face.   
"You bugger! That's emotional blackmail! And a cheap shot. Low, even for you! You know why I'm leaving!"   
"Sam! Lighten up! I'm fucking joking! Listen, I'd really like you to come, I want to talk to you and I'm not doing it here in the office. Now.....I've got some things to sort out and some people to see, so you trot along and I'll finalise arrangements with you when you've spoken to John. Okay?"   
"Okay." She replied dubiously. "Malcolm, there's nothing seriously wrong with you is there? You'd tell me if there was wouldn't you?"   
"No, Sam, there is nothing serious wrong with me. It's nothing like that. And yes, I would tell you.........eventually!" He grinned mischievously.   
"You're the pits, you know that!" She muttered crossly. 

oOo

Half an hour later, Malcolm left his office, grabbing his coat, pocketing his mobile.  
He walked swiftly to Sam's desk.  
"I'm off out for a couple of hours. Got my blackberry if anything exciting happens, but unless it's Shadow Chancellor wank hanging himself from the yardarm in the House, I don't want to know."  
"Where are you going?" She asked, her curiosity piqued.  
"Meetings." He tapped the side of his nose with his index finger.  
"You have no meetings scheduled!" She was intrigued now.  
"Private meetings. For me to know, and you not to find out!" He flashed her a smile.  
"Malcolm, what's going on? Why are you being so mysterious?" Her face was full of concern.  
"Look Sam, I have stuff going on, okay? Lots of stuff. I can't say at the moment, but it's big. And I have to keep my cards close to my chest, for now anyway. Trust me?"  
She regarded him sceptically.  
"Weeellll........?"   
"It's nothing bad.....okay? And nothing illegal! I'm not in any trouble, and I'm not terminally ill......I just can't talk about it......not yet. Please Sam.....you're still my wing man......yeah?"  
Sam smiled, came around the desk, and kissed his cheek gently.  
"Okay! I trust you." She pulled the lapels of his coat together across his chest and brushed a speck of imaginary fluff from his shoulder.  
"Go!" She smiled. "Be magnificent!"   
He pecked her on both cheeks with a wink, and headed off. 

oOo

Business concluded for the day, Sam poked her head around his door just after five.   
"Malcolm, I have a few print outs, from various estate agents. Flats, warden or house manager controlled apartments. There are some quite nice ones. Interested?"   
He looked up from the paperwork he was engrossed in, and slid his glasses up high on his forehead.  
"Great! Thanks Sam. I'll take them home, show them to Marie. They've had quite a lot of interest in their cottage. Holiday Let people mainly. I don't think they'll have much trouble selling it."  
"How are things there?" She asked, coming to stand on the opposite side of his desk.   
"Not too bad. Better now they've got help. Her mum's doing really well. But the old boy is tough to look after, because he continually forgets things, then gets scared, he needs reassurance constantly and it's very wearing. Marie is up there now, coming back later this afternoon."   
He looked up at her, a small smile playing on his lips.  
"That's not what I meant and you know it!" She grinned. " I meant how are things between you and Marie?"   
"Ah! I see!" He said knowingly. "You mean you were being a fucking nosey Parker, and wanting to know about my love life?"   
"Malcolm! I worry about you, you know I do! I can't help it. You're the sort of man that women worry about! There's something all vulnerable and precious about you, underneath all that bluster, and we girls find it annoyingly irresistible!"   
Malcolm laughed, throwing back his head, leaning backwards in his chair. Sam was quite disarmed. It was a very long time since she'd seen him so amused.  
"Well, I'll fucking remember that one......what a great chat up line!"   
"Malcolm, don't tease me! If you don't want to say, that's fine, I was only asking......"   
"Sam. My love life is fan.....fucking.... tastic.......okay? I'm akin to being on a cloud of fucking heart shaped cushions, fluffy kittens, bunny rabbits and plushy soft toys......does that answer your question?"   
Sam smiled broadly.   
"Oh, Malcolm......I'm so pleased!" She clasped her hands together and wrung them with joy.  
"Now fucking leave me alone and go home woman! And don't forget to ask John about the dinner at my place!"   
Sam turned to leave.  
"I knew you and Marie would fall for each other." She said triumphantly. "I knew it! Ha!"   
She did a little fist pump, then skipped towards the door.   
"Night Malcolm!"   
Malcolm shook his head resignedly, still chuckling to himself.  
"Night Sam! You're a pal.......you know that right?"   
"Yes Malcolm. So are you!"   
The door swung shut behind her.


	16. Braveheart.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie has been up to Yorkshire for a couple of days at her parents place.......

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.  
BRAVEHEART.

It was around seven when a car deposited Marie outside Malcolm's place and she rung his doorbell.   
He flung the door wide to admit her, she still carried her small wheelie suitcase, she hadn't even been home. 

Two fucking days, felt like ten. 

He pulled her inside, closed the door behind her and before she could even speak, she was slammed against it, his mouth hot and questing against her own, a flurry of desperate kisses.   
"Oh my god! I've missed you so much. Fuck, I need you! Jesus, Marie!"   
His breathing was sharp and rapid, his hands were on her, tugging her close, his body crushing hers, knee pushed between her thighs.   
Forcing her to tilt her head up, their lips crashed against each other.   
"Malcolm, oh, Malcolm! I'm so glad to be here, I had to come straight from the station, I just wanted to be here with you!"  
Her gasps of passionate arousal, urged him on, he began to undress her, right there in the hallway, still pressed against the street door.  
Coat, scarf, both tugged off and flung aside. Her cold hands up under his jumper and t-shirt, forcing them over his head, urgently.  
They moved down the passageway, still kissing frantically, his lips on her neck, half her buttons undone, blouse pulled apart exposing one shoulder, his mouth fastened on the flesh there in an instant.

They reached the living room, stumbling inside, her hands wrenching at his belt, as he backed her to the sofa, where she fell haphazardly, pulling him down along with her.   
His fingers were at her hips now, rucking up her skirt, insinuating his way inside her tights.  
"Fuck it! I. Hate. Tights!" He groaned. "Stockings are better.....more sexy too!"   
Jeans and underpants offered little resistance, pushed half way down his muscular thighs, he was soon exposed in all his glory, hard as a broom handle, leaking, half crazed with need.   
Moving the crotch of her knickers to one side, and with no further ceremony, he was pushing himself into her.   
"Tell me if I'm hurting you?" His voice ragged, but not abandoning his reason to the point he might cause her pain.   
"Talk dirty to me.....I love it!" She murmured.   
Grunting, speech harsh and gravelly, his salacious thoughts whispered into her willing ear.   
Deliciously tight, not quite enough foreplay, but too far gone to care. She took him, fully sheathed inside her.   
"Oh god! Malcolm! It's fine! Just fuck my brains out!" She cried.   
Her back arched under him, his arms clasped tightly behind her, around the small of her back, hauling her hips upwards to meet his rough and greedy thrusts.  
Mewling cries coming from her that tipped him over the edge far too soon, dragging her into the abyss along with him, with sighs and sweet, sweet moans.  
He came hard, with a shout. Rampant and uncontrolled.   
"FUCK!! FUCK!!"   
Then sank down, most ungentlemanly, right on top of her as his strength failed him. 

They lay draped, half on the cushions of the sofa, half on the floor, which was where they ended up.   
Thoroughly and wickedly debauched, the pair of them.   
Neither able to move or speak. Panting like runners.  
Eventually, he shifted himself, and sat down on the carpet. His back to the sofa, his body wedged between her knees, limp and flaccid cock still wet with their juices. Pants and trousers at half mast.   
She threaded her arms around his naked chest, her head placed next to his, chin on his shoulder.  
She kissed his ear tenderly.   
"God, I needed that! Stud!" She whispered. "It was good! So good!"   
Malcolm looked down at himself.   
"Fucking hell! Look at the state of me!" He moaned."You make me fucking crazy. I'm mental when I'm with you and worse without you! Out of control! Fucking fuck me!"   
"I just did thank you!" she kissed him again, her mouth lingering against his cheek bone.   
"Think I need a shower, or maybe a bath! Join me?"   
She stood up and made her way to the door, turning and crooking a finger towards him, a provocative invitation.  
He was on his feet, trousers and underwear hitched up, and by her side in a second, like an eager labrador.   
"Fuck yeah!" He said. 

oOo

After they'd eaten dinner. Malcolm retrieved the print outs from Sam, and together he and Marie went through them, looking at locations, prices and a general feel for each property.   
There were dozens to peruse.  
"There are a couple here, I really like the look of. I might ring them in the morning and make an appointment to view."   
Marie snuggled closer, under Malcolm's arm. As they lay together on the couch, a glass of wine at their elbow.   
"Do you want me to come with you?" He asked sleepily.  
"No, I'll do a recce on my own, then if I see any I'm really taken with, maybe you would come then, give it the once over. See that I'm not being taken for a ride, or the place isn't about to collapse or something. You know the right questions to ask, and no one will pull the wool over your eyes!"   
"What about your parents? They'll need to see anything that takes your fancy, won't they? They should at least view it and see if it suits." He said, sipping his wine thoughtfully.   
"Yeah, when I've looked at some, I'll set up some second viewings and get them down for the weekend and we can go and look over a few. Maybe you could come then too. Dad'll be better if you're there. You don't mind doing this?" She asked.   
"Course not! Happy to help, told you that. Have you got room at yours for your parents?"   
"Well, I'll give them the bed, and I'll take the couch, it's only for a couple of nights." She replied.   
"They can come here if you want. I have a proper spare room." He offered nobly.  
"No Malcolm, it's fine. It's kind of you, but mum would feel more comfortable being with me I think. But I know Dad would love it if you were around, when they stay."  
"I'll organise you a car to go and fetch them, bring them down. I've got a mate, Bill, he was my driver when The Party were in Government. He still works at the car pool and does part time cab work. He's a great bloke. Gave me his card, said if I ever needed a favour....it'll save them trying to come by train, or you driving to pick them up." Malcolm drained his glass.

"Another?" He waggled the bottle in her direction.  
She shook her head.  
"Oh Malcolm that would be SUCH a help, it's a long way to drive there and back in a day, and dad gets so agitated and frightened if he's travelling or out of his usual routine." She leaned over and placed a kiss on his brow.  
"Why are you so good to me? What did I do to deserve you?" She whispered.  
"I'm the one who doesn't deserve.....it was you who came in the gents that day, when I was barfing up. You who took the trouble to care about me and you who phoned me that night in Berlin.  
You saved my life that night.....as the Elton John song goes! If you hadn't called......"  
He tailed off, suddenly choked with emotion.

"Hey! Malcolm......hush!" She drew his head down to her chest and cradled him there, as he sniffed loudly.  
"I was at the end of my rope, Marie. Seriously. In that hotel room, alone, in pain, fucking depressed, it really was almost all she wrote. It really was!"   
"I didn't realise you were quite that low. I'm glad I called. I really am." She stroked his cheek and he lay against her, her fingers moving to his scalp, scratching gently with her nails.  
He hummed his approval, and sighed, closing his eyes.  
"You staying tonight?" He murmured into the fabric of her blouse.  
"You want me to?" She said softly.  
"What the fuck do you think? I want you to stay every night. In fact I never want you to go back to yours. Can't you stay here? For good?" He raised his head, looking at her, his eyes were bright, the colour of sea foam, illuminated with both longing and love.  
"You're asking me to move in with you? Already? Goodness Malcolm, you don't waste any time do you?" She smiled fondly at him.  
"I guess I am!" He replied, surprising even himself with his words.   
"How much time have I wasted already? Too fucking much! And you, alone all these years, a self inflicted exile, just like me.....sad lonely fuckers together, that's what you said!" His countenance was so eager, so irrepressibly hopeful.   
"Malcolm, I would love to live with you......." She put her finger to his lips to prevent his outpouring of unsuppressed glee, " BUT.........." She continued, " I can't move in until mum and dad are moved and settled, hopefully it won't be long, but I need to focus on them, I don't want my place on the market as well, with people tramping through to view etc, and all the upheaval that might bring. I might have them staying with me before the move day, and I need to just hold back for a wee while. Do you understand?"  
His face fell, like a child who didn't get the Christmas present he asked for.  
"Oh Malcolm, don't look so stricken! Nothing would make me happier than for us to live together, I would love it, I just need a month or three okay? But I'll stay here as much as I can, if that's alright with you, I want to be with you all the time, you know that right? Fuck it all, I think about you every minute of the day as it is.....I hardly get any work done!"   
"Yeah, okay, I get it." He conceded. "But stay tonight yeah? Don't go home tonight."

"Malcolm, I am home. Where you are, that's home." 

They fell to kissing deeply, losing themselves in the warmth of each other.  
When they finally broke, for want of air, he whispered,  
"I've invited Sam and John over, Saturday week, for dinner. Can you be there? I have something.....I want to talk to Sam.......particularly, but you too........can you be there?"   
She placed little kisses against the end of his nose.  
"Of course. You want me to make anything?"  
"No, it's my invite, I'm cooking......I know what I'm making already."  
She smiled.  
"Sounds intriguing, and exciting! I can't wait!"   
His expression had changed, he seemed anxious, the sinews of his neck and jaw tensed.  
"What is it Malcolm, what are you afraid of?"  
"Fuck! You witch! How do you know I'm afraid?" He sat back, staring at her.   
"It's one of your tells! You work your jaw muscle! So, what is it? Can you say?" He shook his head.  
"Not yet, on Saturday! I'll know by then. Fuck! Marie, it's huge! And I'm shitting myself!"   
He passed a hand over his face and blew out his cheeks, she noticed a tremble in the fingers.  
Reaching out, she closed her hand around his and bought it to her lips, kissing it gently.  
"Courage Malcolm! Brave heart! Whatever it is, you'll do it. I have faith in you. In your innate strength, you have the balls.....I know.....I've seen them......and very pretty they are too!"   
She giggled at her own joke and he laughed in spite of himself.  
"Let's go to bed," he grinned wolfishly, taking her hand, " Right now, I just wanna be fucking balls deep in you!!"


	17. Fuck my Life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie is exhausted.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a little of Marie's back story, and her situation, this is her 'Berlin' moment......lowest of ebbs.......will someone be there for her?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.  
FUCK MY LIFE.

The week dragged slowly by.  
Marie was hectically busy at work, and it kept her and Malcolm apart, despite her being in the same building, working for the same 'firm'.

It was almost unbearable. 

For them both.

The latest scandal in the shape of some regrettable emails that had surfaced in the press between a certain back bench MP and the newly appointed leader, details of an affair they'd had years before.  
For the first time ever, Malcolm did not fling himself naked into the flames.  
No one received a bollocking......he simply couldn't be arsed.  
He did not work every hour God sent, saving the day, nor did he go without breakfast, and lunch or any food at all.  
Nights were not spent poring over paperwork, they were spent sleeping. 

Instead he donned his metaphorical asbestos suit, grabbed his virtual fire extinguisher and set to work to make a few phone calls, pull in some favours, arrange for a story of more national importance to be the preferred headline news, pushing the 'rumpy pumpy' story off the front pages, and detracting from the shit flinging.  
Then at five o clock, he put on his coat and scarf, wished Sam a cheery goodnight....

.....And fucked off home. 

oOo

Exhausted, Marie flopped into her armchair.  
Midweek, and she was shattered.  
A buyer had been found for her parents cottage, an offer accepted. So, as well as a heavy work load, she was now bombarded with calls from estate agent, solicitor, surveyors and god knows who else.  
The couple in question were keen to move as soon as possible, and had no chain, so were therefore ideal, she didn't want to lose them. 

All she needed were more hours in the day! 

Not to mention she'd had no time to view any more properties herself, let alone get her parents down to see them.  
To cap it all, her children, whom she saw maybe twice a year, but who she regularly spoke to via skype, were coming to England from their homes in the States, with their respective partners, and were keen to get together with their mum............obviously......and eager to meet Malcolm.  
Fuck!  
What would they make of him she wondered?  
Not that she really cared, if she was honest, but it would be nice if they could get on.  
She'd been very cagey to them about her new found beau. Almost afraid to jinx it. But they weren't stupid, they'd guessed she'd got it bad! 

Since her separation and divorce, things had been difficult. Her children stayed with her, they were only young, she raised them alone, her husband fucked off to the US with his floozy.  
That was fine. She moved on, they were her life.  
Then as they grew older and had a little more contact with their father, (he'd pretty much abandoned them as youngsters, and rarely seemed to trouble himself about them, either spiritually or financially), suddenly he was the father of the year, and they wanted to travel out there. 

Of course she didn't stop them, he was their father, albeit a shite one, but after a couple of visits, when they said they wanted to go there and live, she was devastated.  
Her daughter won a prestigious job, her son went to University. The 'Land of the Free' claimed them. Stole them away from her.  
They were young adults, they wanted to savour life, experience a new world. They left her behind. 

Now she was the abandoned one......all over again. 

Hence the mid-life career change, from medicine, which didn't pay well, to Economist, which, paid better.  
It was an uphill struggle. All the way.  
There had been a couple of relationships, but they ended in tears.  
Hers.  
Caring was in her DNA, she gave too much of herself, and was smashed to smithereens every time.  
Which is why she'd decided......no more men.  
Men were bastards, they let you down at every stroke. They bailed out like fighter pilots when shit got shot down. 

Every fucking time. 

Then she met Malcolm. 

She sighed, and closed her eyes, shutting everything out for a few seconds.  
Fuck, but she missed him.  
When she wasn't with him, or near him, she ached for him.  
She was in deep. So fucking deep. 

Her phone sprang to life, making her jump.

__

"Malcolm! Hi sweetie." 

_"You sound fucking knackered."_

"I am. And I've had no dinner."

_"Get yourself in the shower, then get round here, I'll rustle you something up."_

"I'm too tired Malcolm. I'm really sorry. I just need to go to bed."

A pause. 

_"Okay! Darling......hey, you sound really low."_

"I am, I'm actually not enjoying my work at all. I thought I loved it, but I've actually had a complete confidence crisis today, and feel I'd just like to jack it all in!" 

_"Fuck! I know what that feels like! Listen, I'll hang up, let you get in the bath or whatever. Call you tomorrow?"_

"Yes. That's best! I love you."

_"I love you too. Sweet dreams."_

She hung up. Half an hour passed, still she sat daydreaming.  
Tears began to form.  
Work. Home. Parents. Houses. Children......

Malcolm. 

The latter was all she really wanted.  
Of course she cared about the other things, of course she did, but right now she just wanted to be selfish, just for a little while. Relish the strange and alien feeling of actually being loved, wanted, needed, nay......cherished, by another human being. Someone who cared about her, and only her.  
She rubbed a hand over her damp face, smudging her makeup.  
Damn!  
She'd go and clean it off anyway, get in the bath. Soak for a while maybe, try to relax. 

The doorbell rang.

She groaned. Who the fuck could that be? 

Opening the door, she burst into a flood of uncontrollable sobbing.  
Malcolm.  
With a carrier bag containing dinner.  
Some roses.  
"Thought I could prepare this while you have a soak. Then you can tell me all about it."  
She hung on his neck, in the passageway. Clinging on for dear life.  
He set the bag down and held her for a long time.  
The warmth of his hand on her back, the other tangled in her hair.  
"Come on! Hey! It's alright. Don't cry!" He soothed.  
"I wished for this! And you came!" She grizzled, his shirt wet with her tears, and a large smear of mascara.  
"Well, if you're a witch, maybe I'm a magician! Come on, let's get that bath run.....and I'll make us grub. I wanna hear all about your turd strewn day!"  
She giggled, through her tears.  
"Oh Malcolm, you really are a sight for sore eyes! You know that!"  
"I'm not staying the night.....we'll eat, then we'll snuggle, then you need to get to bed and get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day!! And it'll soon be the weekend."  
"I can't wait! But I'm so glad you're here! I love you Malcolm Tucker."

He'd surprised her yet again. She'd lost count now. Five times?  
So unselfish, denying himself, because he knew she was shattered. Yet wanting to just spend an hour or two because he knew she needed that. 

The man was a fucking Saint! 

Hallelujah!


	18. Bombshell.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening of the dinner party. Malcolm has an announcement to make.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that took a while to come together, now it has I'm happy that it's right. It's a piece which continues directly into the following chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.  
BOMBSHELL.

Saturday morning. Malcolm was up and out to the shops early.  
Leaving Marie to lie in.  
Waking in his bed was still a novelty. One that she'd very quickly become accustomed to.  
She dozed, his scent on the sheets and on the pillow under her head, comforting.  
It wasn't long before she heard his key in the lock.   
His footsteps in the hall, was he humming to himself?   
To think she could actually have this every day, she just had to say the word. Wake with him every morning, hear him pottering about downstairs.   
Had she really been so lonely? Until now she hadn't realised it.   
A man in her life. 

This man.

With all his troubles, and abrasiveness and false bravado.  
Who was really just as lonely as she, kind and thoughtful, and just a wee bit vulnerable. 

She was in love with him. 

He was in love with her.

He wanted her to move in with him, he was that sure. 

She wanted it more than anything.

A footstep bought her back down to earth from her musing.   
"Cup of tea? Wasn't sure if you were awake or not."   
That pinched, eager face. Those astonishing lapis eyes.   
"You were deep in thought there......penny for them?" He said, planting himself on the edge of the bed, as she sat up to receive the cup from his hands.   
"I was thinking about you." She answered dreamily. Sipping from the mug with a grateful sigh, then setting it down on the bedside cabinet.   
"Good, I hope!" He replied, swallowing deeply. She watched his Adam's apple bob in this throat, he wasn't smiling, his face taut and a little strained.   
"Malcolm! Do you doubt it?" She smiled, reaching for him, he ignored the gesture.   
"Always! That's how fucked up I am!" His tone was subdued, almost sad.   
"Then don't! I love you. I'm IN love with you. And waking up beside you is all I could ever need."   
He looked away sharply, his jaw working.  
"Fuck! I hope you mean it. Cos I'm fucking done for if not." He said.   
His bald honesty dismayed her.   
"Malcolm! Come here......." Her hand reached for him again, he regarded it, as if pondering whether he should take it or not. Decision made, he placed his fingers into her palm carefully.  
She closed her hand around his and tugged him towards her.   
Their lips touched.  
"I mean it Malcolm! This is it! For me, anyway. You. You are what I want." His obvious doubt distressed her.   
He sank down into her, and she cradled him, his head against her chest, she stroked his hair gently, buried there, his breath against her skin. Sharp and staccato, fighting for control.  
"Fuck!" He whispered, feebly. 

oOo

Hair up in a messy ponytail, feet pushed into slip ons. Grabbing her handbag, jacket and a scarf. With a sheaf of estate agent's notes under her arm, Marie hurried into the kitchen.   
Malcolm was resplendent in a striped chefs apron.   
A Bain-Marie of chocolate melting on the stove.   
He was busily whisking egg yolks. 

The table laid with a white cloth, candle sticks, napkins.   
"I'm off to my appointments!" She said breezily. Her eyes scanned the scene before her.   
"Look at all this!!" She exclaimed. "What are you making?"   
"Chocolate mousse." He replied shortly. Checking to see how the melting was going.   
"Wow! And something smells yummy!" She sniffed appreciatively.  
"Wait and see!" He said curtly. Smacking her hand away as she tried to lift a saucepan lid.   
She manoeuvred herself behind him, arms around his tummy, kissing his neck, nuzzling, and humming against his skin.   
He smelled like heaven.   
Tilting his head slightly to allow her to continue, he leaned into her with an audible sigh.   
There was a tremble about him.

"You're a bag of nerves, Malcolm. What's wrong with you?" 

He set the whisk down and turned himself in her arms, facing her, his eyes darting to her mouth, then her eyes.   
"Tonight." He said, simply. "Big. I'm crapping myself."   
She kissed him warmly, and he gave a small mewing sound, almost of desperation.   
"You'll be fine. Whatever it is. Look......I have to go, or I'll be late.......I'll be back before six at the very latest. Okay?"   
"Okay!" She released him from her embrace.   
"Happy cooking!" 

oOo

The afternoon stretched before him.   
Chocolate mousse in the fridge, covered in cling film, he started on making chicken liver pâté. He'd made it before, it was simple.   
Chuck everything in a pan, fry it off, add a few herbs and this and that.........blitz in the liquidiser, stick it in ramekins.   
Easy.   
He made a playlist for the evening, but decided that music while he worked would help him relax.   
Soon he was singing along to Frank Sinatra. In a surprisingly tuneful baritone. 

Lifting the lid of the gently bubbling pan, he checked his risotto. Added another ladle of stock and some soaked porcini mushrooms and replaced the lid.  
The aroma filled the kitchen.   
Plates. Parmesan. Rocket salad. Cutlery. Tick!   
Just toast to make, to go with the pâté. Sorted.   
Shower, shave, change. 

oOo

By the time Marie returned at 5.30pm, he was just in the process of uncorking some wine.   
She flew in like a tornado. Flushed and excited.   
Flinging her arms around his neck.   
She smashed her lips against his, and kissed him thoroughly.   
"Someone's had a successful day!" He smiled, pouring her a glass of wine and handing it over.   
"I've found it!" She cried, gleefully. "Oh, Malcolm, it's perfect. It's close, it's smart, nicely decorated. It has a communal lounge where people can meet for a coffee, or a chat, or play cards if they want to, there are shops on the doorstep, a lovely church with a great vicar, for mum, and if they want to shut their front door on the world they can. I need them to come and see it as soon as possible. But I know they'll love it."   
"Sounds brilliant, I'll come with you and have a deco tomorrow, shall I?" He sipped his wine.   
"Would you? That would be great! It was by far the nicest out of all those I've seen. And the price isn't bad either, although they might take an offer, for a quick sale. How was your day?"  
Malcolm gave a little smirk.   
"Good! Everything's set. Now run and have a shower and change. Sam and John will be here in an hour or so."

oOo

The chatter around the table was cordial and merry.   
Sam's husband John, who had always been a little aloof and wary with Malcolm, seemed perfectly happy this evening, and was recounting Malcolm's run in with Paul the rugby player, at his birthday party.   
"Sorry John, but he did act like a cunt!" Malcolm laughed, "he got what was coming to him."  
"I thought we were going to have a punch up!" John retorted.   
"I wouldn't have let it go that far."   
Marie began to clear the plates away.  
"I don't know that it was up to you!" Sam interjected, "those rugby guys are a right lot of trouble makers!"  
Sam then recalled the day Malcolm punched Glenn Cullen. Marie's eyes widened.   
"Yeah, thanks for that Sam. Not my finest hour!" He groaned at the memory.   
"That starter was great, Marie." Said Sam. "Really smooth."   
"I didn't make it. Malcolm did." She replied, "he did all the cooking, I've been out all day looking at flats!"  
Sam raised her eyebrows.   
"You made that?" She questioned.  
"Don't sound so fucking surprised! I'm a perfectly good cook. I enjoy it!" He retorted.  
"Well I'm very impressed! What a dark horse you are, Malcolm! What's for mains?"   
"I'll go dish it up.....you finish your wine!" He followed Marie out into the kitchen, as Sam and John exchanged amused glances.  
"It really was delicious! You're really clever!" She drew him towards her, and squeezed his arse playfully.  
"Hey!" That's for later.....if you still want it." He laughed, squirming out of her reach.  
"Help me with this, woman! Salads to go through to the table, Parmesan and balsamic dressing. I'll bring the rest!"   
He carried in the creamy mushroom risotto, the smell wafting through before him.   
The four diners munched in appreciative silence for several minutes, John was the first to comment.  
"This is bloody good mate! No way this came out of a packet!"

They finished with the chocolate mousse which was light as air and delicious.   
Sam sat back in her chair, while Marie went out to make some coffee, and rubbed her stomach in contentment.   
"That was bloody amazing, Malcolm. Thank you! It's been such a lovely evening! You really can cook!"   
He smiled, a small bashful smile.   
"Thanks!" He said quietly.  
Marie returned, with cups and saucers, and they pushed back their chairs and relaxed.  
"You said you wanted to talk to me." Sam broached, suddenly. "Not in the office you said, tonight you said. What was it that was so important?"   
"Ah!" Malcolm took a glug of wine. " I was working myself up to it."   
The three looked at him expectantly.  
"Well.........there are several things I wanted to say really. I don't know quite where to start. But here goes!   
..........hold on to your hats........gonna be emotional."   
He moved his chair back, and stood up. Taking a deep breath. His face was flushed with the wine, he'd had perhaps a little more than usual.   
Dutch courage.   
He paced a little, his hands balled into fists at his side.   
"Firstly........I want to say........thank you. To you Sam." He turned to face her, and she swallowed heavily.   
"John, don't get the fucking wrong idea here.....okay? But I want to say this now, otherwise I never will. Sam, you are a dear. You've saved my fucking miserable hide more times than I care to remember. You've nursemaided me, looked after me, been the best fucking PA that there could ever be. Better still you've been a real friend. And I've precious few of those."   
Tears began to course down Sam's face and her chin wobbled dramatically.   
"I can't really believe we won't be working together any more, after all this time. But I hope you'll still have me as a friend. And I'll miss seeing you every day like fucking hell. I've got you something, which I hope you'll accept, with my gratitude."   
Reaching behind the sideboard, he bought out a box, tied with a bow.   
She looked up at him, speechless, then began to open it. It was a gold necklace. A pendant.   
Also inside the box was a folded certificate. Sam looked at the stone, which was dark like the night sky, but faceted with flecks of multiple kaleidoscope colours, then up at her boss, admiration and confusion written across her face.   
"It's a black opal. From Australia. It's your birth stone. The certificate tells you where it comes from and that it's authentic."   
Malcolm looked at her hopefully.   
"Do you like it?"   
She left her chair, silent, came around the table, and threw her arms around his neck, holding him tight and sniffling loudly.  
"Malcolm. Thank you. What can I say? You're a sweetheart, and I'll always wear it. Always. And I'll always remember. Every moment, always. Thank you. And I'll miss you too."   
She kissed him two or three times, before sitting down again, and putting her hand into her husband's. Both he and Marie, looked a little choked too.   
Marie took Malcolm's arm and squeezed it.   
He coughed slightly, regaining his composure. 

"Secondly, I've got a bit of news for you. Which might come as a bit of a surprise. But everything is now in hand, and as from the end of next month.......

.......I'm no longer working for the Opposition. 

I quit." 

A stunned silence fell over the little group around the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events continue directly into the next chapter.


	19. More Bombshells.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm's revelations continue ..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter continues on directly from the previous one.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.  
MORE BOMBSHELLS.

Malcolm looked from one to the other of his friends.   
"Well, say something!" He cried, holding his arms wide, in exasperation.   
"You quit?" Marie repeated slowly.  
"Yep. It's all in hand. I'm walking away. Retiring. Fucking the fuck off." He reached for his glass and drained it with a flourish.  
"Fuck mate......big step! Just walking away......just like that?" John breathed.   
"Yeah. No one knows I'm going. I want no word of it to leak out either. One Friday I'll go home and I just won't be back on the Monday. I want no fucking farewell party, no speeches, no gold watch, definitely no bunting, and no fucking golden handshake. I'm just walking out and that's the end.....all she fucking wrote. It's all sorted and the people who know are under strict secrecy. I've had enough. I don't give a fuck anymore. Malcolm Tucker has left the building." 

Marie put her hand over her mouth, and began to cry. Sam wiped at her eyes with a tissue. 

"Oh fuck it all! I'm just making everyone bloody cry tonight. John.....don't you start blubbing too will you?" Malcolm threw up his hands in mock despair.   
"You both wanted me to quit." He looked at the two women. "Now I have. There's no going back now. It's all sorted."   
"I'm flabbergasted!" Marie whispered, "I just never thought you'd actually go through with it. You haven't done this for me......have you?"   
"Partly, I guess. But the decision was made before anything happened between us. And I'm really glad about that. It had nothing to do with you initially. But now it has everything to do with you."   
He turned towards her, and smiled gently.   
"Which brings me to my third thing." He said, sucking in air, then blowing it out again. Sam held her own breath, was he going to say what she thought he was going to say? 

"These last weeks I've been having copious meetings, finalising various things. It's what I couldn't tell you about, Sam." He said, turning to her, with a look of apology.  
"I've been sorting out my pension. My future, my finances. Lord Nicholson has been helping me."  
"JULIUS?" Sam squeaked.   
"Yeah! Friends in the city.....old boy network.....has its uses!" Malcolm looked slightly guilty.   
"When I was forced to resign, when I had my run in with that cunt Fleming, Julius and I had a meeting. We had a curry as I remember! He asked me to come back. I made certain conditions. He wanted me. He agreed to my......requests."  
"You didn't agree to sleep with the old poof did you Malc ?" John laughed.   
"John!! That's terrible! You can't say that!" Sam cried.  
Malcolm smiled.  
"No John. I'm afraid my inclinations don't lie that way!..........No, I asked him to help me make some investments, to make my money work for me, to give me some degree of financial security if my days were numbered.....which I thought they probably were. He agreed. I knew then it could never last, although I've hung on longer than I ever thought I'd be able to. So I have a fucking good pension and a bit of cash behind me, and I own this house. Lock, stock and barrel!" 

Sam decided he wasn't going to say what she thought he was going to say, after all. 

"Malcolm, I don't believe I'm hearing this. All that time......after Fleming? When Julius treated you so abominably, you almost thumped him.....I was there.......I cried!" She said, quietly.   
"Yeah well, I forgave him! Anyway......this leads me to my fourth thing........"  
"God, Malcolm, I don't think I can take many more revelations......it's like being on an episode of Oprah!" John puffed, pouring himself a very large glass of wine.   
"Go on........" Marie said, softly, "tell us."   
"Well, my other meetings have been with various contacts at the press office, and with publishers."

He paused for dramatic effect. 

"You're not going to become a hack again.......surely?" John choked.  
"Nope. But I am going to write a little observational column in the Guardian, on a freelance basis. It's all arranged. A nice little earner. I can write about travel, television, life, the universe and everything. Bit like a diary. Pretty much a free rein. I start after I quit here."   
"And the publisher?" John leaned in to replace the wine bottle.  
"Oh yeah......the publisher. I'm going to write my memoirs!"   
"WHAT?" Sam exploded, almost spitting out her drink.  
"I have a book deal with Faber. Six figure advance sum. I've signed on the dotted line."   
He stared around the group in satisfaction.   
"Wow!" Sam breathed. " that's pretty amazing......and huge. You said it was big.....you weren't lying!!"  
Marie was silent. 

"Well. That is quite a lot to take in Malcolm. No wonder you didn't want to say it all in the office!"   
Sam smiled, and came forward to give him another kiss.   
Marie had still made no comment. She appeared to be digesting all that Malcolm said. 

"Everything to do with me......." Her voice was hushed and nervous.

"Pardon?" Malcolm responded.

"You said.......now it has everything to do with me? How?" Her face looked stricken, she was close to tears again. 

Malcolm turned to face her. His eyes searching for, and holding hers, pleading silently.   
"Because I want to ask you something......." He said, taking both her hands. 

Sam held her breath.....oh fuck, here it comes, she thought.

"I want to take a while." He continued, his voice began to lose its power. "I've been a selfish, self absorbed cunt for longer than I care to remember. I've been on my own pretty much since my fucking divorce. I want to take a bit of time out. A few months maybe.......not right away, but when your parents are moved and settled, I want to travel for a bit, I want to go to Europe; Italy, Paris, wherever, I want to kick my heels."   
His fingers caressed the backs of her hands.  
"I want you to jack in your job. Give it up. Fuck off with me, on the Continent, where ever the fuck you wanna go. I want us to spend some time together. Get to know each other properly. Just the two of us, just to be a couple. I mean, you might decide you hate the fucking sight of me, well, if that's the case so be it.....but I just wanna try..... be free......such as I've never been in my whole fucking life, not answerable to the Bosses, and be happy for once, and I think that you could make me that. Will you do it Marie? Take a risk. Take a fucking great punt on me? Will you? Please?"   
"But what about afterwards?" She asked shakily.  
"Afterwards? Well if you're bored shitless with my company and you wanna get a job, well I wouldn't stop you, but if you don't..........then......I wanna take care of you......if you'll let me." 

"Then my answer is yes! I'll fuck off with you." She placed her arms around his middle and pulled him close. "I love you Malcolm." She whispered.   
"And I fucking adore you!" He said, his eyes wet.   
Neither cared that Sam and John were their slightly embarrassed audience, they kissed each other deeply and tenderly, finally breaking apart, and laughing shyly, as Sam, came and joined in, pulling her husband with her.....the four of them in a group hug circle.

 

Sam finally breathed freely again. It wasn't quite what she'd thought was coming, maybe she had been a little premature......but it was damn well near enough!   
They charged their glasses, and clinked them together.  
"A toast!" Sam cried.  
"To the future!"   
"To the future!" They echoed.


	20. Sacred Sunday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the dinner party.......

CHAPTER TWENTY.  
SACRED SUNDAY.

Their guests had gone home, Malcolm put the last of the crocks in the dishwasher and set it going.  
"That was quite an evening." Marie's arms came around him, as he stood at the kitchen counter waiting for the kettle to boil.   
He placed his hands over hers as they clasped in front of his belly and leaned back into her embrace.   
"Thank fuck it's over!" He breathed.  
"Sam was very emotional, I'm not sure whom she loves more, you or her husband!"   
Malcolm allowed himself a chuckle.  
"She doesn't love me! Not like that anyway. She might love me.....like you love a family member or a close friend, but it's not a fancying thing......it isn't."   
"If you say so!" Marie smiled. "Has she any idea how much that opal cost you?"   
"Hopefully not! She'll be angry if she knew. But I wanted something special. Nine years is a fucking long time. Most marriages don't last as long as that! Mine didn't!"   
"Nor mine!" She laughed. "It was a lovely present and a lovely thought. I could tell she really adored it."   
"Oh? How?" Malcolm turned to face her.  
"I'm a woman Malcolm! I know these things!" She kissed the tip of his nose.   
He hmmm'd . Half to himself, half to her. Turning again and starting to make tea.  
"Want some? Shall we take it up to bed, it's two thirty?"   
"Yeah. Okay. I'm knackered after the excitement of this evening and house hunting all day!" 

oOo

Light out, curled into each other's warmth.   
Laying in silence. Neither ready for sleep despite their tiredness and the late hour.   
"What are you thinking about? I can almost hear your mind whirring!" Marie stroked his chest absentmindedly.  
"You're really okay with throwing everything to the winds, and coming away?" He asked, moving his own hand so that his fingers could play with her hair.   
"Yes! No hesitation! It's a second chance, Malc. How often do they come round? Almost never! A chance to actually enjoy life for a while. I know we can't run away indefinitely, but we can take a while, we can make the opportunity and we can run with it. I'm brave enough if you are!"   
"I was fucking crapping myself. Because I wasn't sure what I'd do if you said no." He replied, his voice quiet and indistinct.  
"What have we got to lose?" She said, raising her head, and looking at him, his profile outlined in the dim light.   
"Well, everything! You, your job. Me, my fucking sanity!" He caressed her cheek deliberately.  
"A job is a job, is a job! I'll find another. I could go back to nursing if I'm that desperate. There's always a nurse wanted somewhere." She began to place little kisses along his sternum.   
His breathing pattern began to change.   
"You're crazy anyway! You lost your sanity years ago!" She whispered, a smile playing across her lips.   
"Fucking rude!" He grabbed her and flipped her over. His weight partly across her body, one leg pushing hers apart , his hand suddenly between her thighs, his fingers exploring wickedly.   
She gasped and wriggled beneath him, but she was already in his thrall.  
"Oh! God! Malcolm! I swear to God, when you do that........fucking hell!" Words failed her.   
He began to whisper to her, and a thrill went right through every inch of her from toe tip to the roots of her hair.   
"You like it when I do this don't you!" His tone was throaty, no more than a rasp.   
"Fuck yes! Christ! I never though being talked dirty to could be so erotic.....but it is when you do it! Fucking hell!.......Malcolm, please let me touch you this time! You always try to stop me. You always want me to come, and make yourself wait. Let me try something for you!"   
He acquiesced with a groan, relinquishing his hold on her, ceasing his inflaming caresses, turning onto his back again and laying there, still and obedient, waiting, like a dog for a bone, as she smoothed a hand across his chest and down to his stomach a few times, before circling his nipples with a spit wet finger. His chest rose and fell rapidly under her touch, he'd never really though of this part of his anatomy as an erogenous zone, but it fucking was. The tender pink nubs hardened and became more and more sensitive, as first her mouth, then her tongue tormented him.  
"Fuck me! Marie!" He muttered, his hips beginning to move in response.   
"You like that?" She cooed.   
"Fuck yeah! Didn't know I did, but I do! Fuck!"   
Subtly stroking just beneath his stomach area now, making him suck in his abs, almost touching the tip of his erection but not quite. It was maddening.   
Her hand moved lower to his cock, massaging him, then letting her fingers dance lightly over his hard length, so very gently, with no force, just a feather touch.   
The sounds he was making told her all she needed to know.  
She began to circle one finger around his hood, stroking the most sensitive spot on the underside. Over his slit, gathering the wetness there, then back around, over, and repeating, a subtle tease, for several minutes, then finally compressing the top of his engorged head with her thumb, and holding it there. She blew cool air over him, making him shiver, he thought it was the most delicious sensation he'd ever experienced........  
......until he felt her lips kiss right on his tip and then start to suck there......then he finally lost his reason.   
"Stop! Marie, stop......I can't......fucking hell, I'm gonna come......." and there he was, pumping, onto his own stomach, crying out. "Shit! Shit!" His head thrown back, his body arching, lifting his buttocks clear off the bed.   
"Fuck it! I'm sorry......sorry.......fuck.......!" Gradually his writhing ceased, and he calmed.   
He was a mess.   
"Was that good?" She said, her voice hushed and thick with desire.  
"I'm sorry! Fuck! Fuck! I'm seeing stars!" He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back gently, taking some tissue and wiping him.   
"Shh! Lay still! Why are you sorry? There's nothing to be sorry about! You came hard!" She soothed.  
"Fucking hell! Like a fucking teenager, one touch and I shoot my load! I'm ashamed of myself!"  
"Malcolm, that's ridiculous, it's lovely that you were so turned on! It's a long while since I did anything like that to a man!"   
"I don't exactly know what you DID do! All I know is, if you ever want to do it again.....I'm fucking ready!! Holy fuck!"   
"Lucky I didn't try prostate massage then.....I think you might actually spontaneously combust!"   
Malcolm sucked in a sharp breath and held it.   
"You.....you can do that?......I've never even.........I've heard its nuclear.........but no ones ever....."  
"I was a nurse Malc, I know how to find a man's prostate! But maybe save that for another time, yeah?"   
She smiled and leaned to kiss him languidly.  
"Feel like I've been hit by a bendy bus." He murmured, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.  
"Sleep then!" She whispered. "Rest and sleep."   
"But what about you........? You haven't........" His tone contrite, deeply apologetic.   
"Malcolm! This time it was all about you! Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself, more than adequately."   
"But......I'm the bloke, I'm supposed to......." He began.  
She laughed gently, hushing him.  
"Don't be so old fashioned! I tell you what, you lie there, and hold me close, I'll touch myself, next to you, against your body, and then we'll both get some well earned sleep!"  
She snaked her hand down between her own legs, but his fingers soon closed over hers, and she let him take over, until she was gasping with the throes of climax. Sated and more than content. 

It began to rain heavily. Pounding against the roof and windows relentlessly.   
They drifted into sleep wrapped together cosily, lulled by the sound, for what remained of the night.

oOo

The radio was burbling away happily in the background.   
Breakfast plates and cutlery abandoned in the kitchen. It was still fairly early.   
Sunday morning.   
Marie was sorting through a load of papers she'd received from her parents solicitor, wearing Malcolm's dressing gown, messy hair clipped up.  
A piece of toast protruding from the corner of her mouth.   
Malcolm wandered about, in nothing but his boxers, flicking through the Sunday paper idly. Sipping coffee, eating a croissant which left a trail of crumbs on the floor and down his bare tummy.   
He leaned over her and dropped a kiss on her cheek.  
"Busy?" He purred.  
"Mmmmive gotta go thru mmisss ot!" She spoke, with her mouth full.   
"What was that?" He laughed.   
She removed the offending article.  
"I've got to go through this lot!" She tried again, a blob of butter on her lip. "It's a bloody nightmare! And your chin is scratchy! You need a shave!"   
"Want help?" He offered, wiping over her mouth with a tender thumb. "I'll have one later, when I can be arsed!"  
They sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder, reading the small print, there was a great deal to peruse.  
"Car's arranged for the morning, by the way." He remarked. "Bill is going to leave early. They should be here around lunchtime. I spoke to him yesterday afternoon." Malcolm scanned each page briefly, jotting notes in the margin.   
"I phoned mum this morning, she's doing well. Looking forward to coming down. They're going to stay over. I really hope they like the place. There are a couple of others for them to see too. Would you be able to be there, do you think......for Dad?"  
"Sure! It'll only be an hour or so, Sam can field my calls. I don't anticipate any major problems, work wise."   
He handed her back the papers.  
"There's a couple of notes I've made there, questions you need to ask.....nothing mind blowing, but just need clarification."  
"I appreciate this Malc! There's so much to do!"  
"It'll get done. The actual move will be the worst bit. But we'll sort it somehow! Do you want to go out or do something later? We could have lunch somewhere maybe? Go for a walk?"   
She leaned back in the dining chair and regarded him fondly.   
His ribs were so skinny, a little roundness at the stomach, he'd gained a little weight in the last few weeks, since he'd begun to feel better, but he was still quite thin, and very pale. Although she thought he had lovely skin.   
A frame so sharp and angular, with powerful legs, and yet he was no sportsman, although he had confessed to once using an exercise bike to keep fit.   
He noticed her looking.   
"Like what you see?" He enquired archly.  
"Very much!" She laughed. "You're a handsome bugger! But you know that of course!"  
He smiled, but shook his head.   
"Not me! My ex wife said I looked like an angry owl."   
"Nonsense! You have beautiful eyes! They change colour depending on the light......blue, green, grey.....they look right inside my soul!" She bought her face close to his, and gripped his rough chin, holding his gaze steadily.  
"There's lots about you I like. You have a great arse too! Right now, however, you have crumbs in your belly button and you need a shower, because you smell all sweaty and you need a shave, because you're all prickly! Apart from that......"  
"I know......I'm fucking perfect!" He grinned. 

It was a frosty day. The branches of the all trees, each individual crisp leaf, the blades of grass, every surface looked as if it had been dipped in white icing sugar.  
Their breath hung in clouds about their faces as they strolled through the park.   
Scarves pulled up. Malcolm was pinched into his overcoat, his shoulders hunched. He felt the cold.  
No fat to keep him warm!   
He wore black jeans and lace up boots, which made him look even taller than he was.   
Steel grey head uncovered, the tip of his nose pink.   
The sun was low, and watery so he wore sunglasses. She thought he looked a little like an ageing rockstar.   
A wide stride, hands shoved into his pockets. Her arm through his at the elbow, walking close.   
As they strode along, he glanced down at her frequently.   
"What's the matter?" She asked eventually.   
"You!" He replied, his face almost puzzled.   
"What have I done now?" She said, pulling him a little closer.  
"Just you. Fucking being here. With me. Like this." His voice was unsteady. "Can't fucking believe it. Shitting myself that I'll wake up, and you're not really here at all. It's almost too good to be true. Any minute now you're gonna realise you've made a huge mistake and fuck off, and I'm just gonna fucking well curl up and die."   
She tugged him to a halt, and threaded her arms around his middle. Looking up, and into his anguished face earnestly.   
"Stop right there, Mister! Not going to happen." She leaned into him, her head against the lapel of his coat. He rested his chin on the top of her head and his body gave an involuntary shiver.   
"Don't Malcolm. Don't say things like that. I love you. Truly. I need you."  
He held on to her very tight, rocking her from side to side slightly.  
"God above! I need you too! This is fucking wonderful, isn't it? It's not just me?" He said quietly.  
"It's much more than that. It's a fucking miracle! That's what it is. What are the chances?"  
She stopped and pulled back a little.  
"Is that fear, or are you shivering with the cold?" She chuckled. "Seriously?"   
"A bit of both I think." He smiled.   
"Let's go to the kiosk and get hot chocolate! Come on!" She released her hold from around him, and held out her hand.  
He smiled, took it, and together they sauntered onwards, swinging their clasped hands between them as they went.


	21. Just Another Manic Monday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weekend is over.......Sam wants words with Malcolm......

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.  
JUST ANOTHER MANIC MONDAY.

Malcolm breezed into his office on Monday morning with a spring in his step.   
No matter what happened between now and his leaving, nothing was going to bring him down.   
He hung up his overcoat and scarf carefully and went through to start checking his emails.  
Looking up he saw Sam loitering with intent in the doorway.  
"Wassup?" He ventured, seeing that her face looked somewhat emotional.  
She crossed the room and stood before him, there was a tear on her eyelash, but she ignored it.  
A punch hit the top of his arm, just below the shoulder.  
"Ow! Fuck! What was that for?" He yelped, holding the spot with his other hand.   
Sam launched herself at him then, flinging her arms around his neck and tugging him down so that her head was next to his. Her body flush against his own.   
"What the fuck! You're crushing the Armani here woman! What's got into you?" He tried unsuccessfully to extricate himself from her vice like grip.   
"I went on Google!" She sniffed, into his neck.   
"Oh?" He replied, gingerly.  
Moving back a little from him so that she could look into his face, she quirked an eyebrow at him in mock annoyance.  
"Don't you 'oh' me, Malcolm Tucker! I looked up the black opal." She sniffed again.  
"Ah! I see!" He responded, with a hopeful smile.   
"Yes! I don't doubt you DO see! And don't give me those puppy eyes.....they won't work! I'm cross with you!" She was smiling slightly despite her veiled anger.  
"Don't be angry with me!" His face looked young suddenly, almost boyish.  
"I am! I'm extremely miffed!" She retorted, but then leaned in and kissed him thoroughly, on the lips, for a few seconds, before releasing him, smiling at his reaction.   
He looked scandalised.  
"But I love you as well though, you stupid berk!" She took hold of his lapels. "Just exactly how much did you spend on that thing?"   
"I'm not saying." He said, trying to twist himself backwards slightly so that she wasn't quite so crowdingly close.   
"You don't get away that easily! Oh no!" She still grasped him firmly. "It's ridiculous Malcolm. Quite ridiculous.....stupendous, but completely ridiculous!" She wiped at her wet face with the back of her hand.  
"Look, I wanted something really special. Because you are really special. To me anyway. And I chose it because.......because, well, I wanted you to always remember, and I wanted it to be something you'd treasure, for always. Something to mark all the times......good and bad. Well, mainly fucking bad, I know......but.....well.......that's it!"   
She thumped him again, but only playfully.  
"Stop fucking beating me up okay!" He whined. "Are you pleased with it?"  
"Well of course I bloody am! It's the most beautiful thing ever! You've wracked up so many brownie points that John is spitting chips! He says, 'how can I compete with that' ?!" She stepped back, and he puffed out his cheeks in mock relief.   
"Well, as long as you like it, my work is done." He stated happily. "And tell your husband it's not a fucking competition, yeah? I'm not trying to win your affection here! That's not what it's about! It's a gift from me to you, to thank you for nine fucking years of torture I've put you through!"   
"How did I not end up marrying you?" She asked, laughing.  
"Because I'm old and crusty and a miserable fucker who was already married......both physically and to this fucking shit job.....and you've got far too much sense......that's why!" He grinned. "But now that's all changed. I've just got myself a fucking divorce......again! And you've married the right guy! And you love him, and that's how it should be!"   
He made a show of tidying imaginary mess on his desk, not meeting her eyes.   
"But I'll always be a tiny bit in love with you Malcolm." She muttered quietly. "Always!"   
"Well, I'm flattered! I am. But you're not really. You're in love with the IDEA of me.....and that's different. We wouldn't have been good, Sam. Working together, and all. It would have been a total fucking car crash and you know it as well as I."   
She sighed.  
"Yeah! You're right of course. But thank you. Thank you Malcolm! For the opal. And for nine bloody amazing years! I didn't need it, to remember them, but I love it. So thank you!"   
She brushed his cheek with a chaste kiss, and stepped away, her face flushed, moving towards the door.  
"Hey! Hang on a mo........where's my fucking morning latte.......? And I'm pushing the boat out for a skinny muffin this morning! If you'd be so kind!" He called after her retreating back.  
"Coming right up, Boss!" She replied, with a wink. 

oOo

By lunchtime Malcolm was in the back of a black cab, speeding away from the fuck office and heading to a rendezvous with Marie and her parents.   
He was running a little late, time had got away with him.   
"Don't go down the frickin' tourist route mate.....I need to get there, yeah?" He said to the cabbie.  
As it turned out he was only five minutes or so over, and the others had only just arrived themselves.   
He hopped out, paid the driver, and dashed across the road, tie flying. Speaking on his mobile, which had just starting ringing annoyingly.  
"Jeremy! Shit timing! I'm busy! Tell him, I'll see him tomorrow! I'm out of the office. It's nothing that can't wait, and I'll deal with it in the morning. Ask Sam to make him an appointment, she's got my diary. It's not fucking urgent! I'll speak to him tomorrow! Yep, and fuck you too!" He hung up and flicked his phone with a flourish, just as he reached Marie's side.   
He dropped a lingering kiss against her cheek.   
"Alright sweetie?"   
"I'm good. You got here! That's brilliant!" She smiled.  
"Promised I would didn't I?"  
"Hello, George! How you doin'?" The old man's face brightened visibly when he saw Malcolm.   
"Jock! Well, I never! Fancy seeing you here!" He beamed.   
"Pamela! You're looking a hell of a lot better since I last saw you!" He smiled and gave her a kiss on both cheeks. "Journey down okay?" He asked.  
"Wonderful Malcolm! We came in style. Such a weight off my mind!" She replied, with gratitude.   
"Malcolm I must show you this before we go in...........I was having a pre-move clear out, and I found a bunch of old photos." She rummaged in her handbag. "I found this."   
She handed him a largish photo, faded, and quite old, it was of lines of men, in tiers, some seated, at the front, those behind standing, smart and upright, all in army uniform. George's battalion when they began their National Service. The date and names all written under each recruit.   
Malcolm squinted at the picture, the rows of young fresh faces, he quickly picked out George.   
Pamela pointed to a face in the second row, two from the left.   
Angus Campbell.  
"See!" She exclaimed. "Look Malcolm!"   
It was like looking at a younger version of himself. Same nose, and brow line, same build and height. A mop of dark hair under his cap.   
"Well, I'll be fucked!" Malcolm laughed. 

The viewing of the flat went even better than they could possibly have anticipated. Although they looked at two or three others. It was this one that was the outright winner.   
"See this George.....and there's a pub a few doors along......we can go for a pint!" Malcolm was walking around the rooms, Marie and Pamela following. Her father was holding Malcolm's hand, allowing himself to be led from room to room.   
"You haven't got to fart about lighting fires either.....you just press this here....." He switched the heater on. " ......and hey presto, nice and warm!"   
He turned to George. "You okay?" He asked.   
"It's wonderful, Jock. They've thought of everything. We'll be very happy here, I know it!"   
"Tell you what, let's go to the little tea place, in the row of shops, it's not far.....get a pot of tea and a cake, and relax a bit. You must be knackered after all this excitement." He suggested.   
They agreed readily and within ten minutes they were seated and had a restorative cuppa on the way.   
George and Pammy were discussing where certain items of their furniture would fit into the flat.   
Marie leaned across to Malcolm and kissed him.  
"Love you!" She whispered. He turned to look at her, her eyes were shining. She was gloriously happy, he could see it written there.   
He squeezed her hand. 

That evening the four ate together at Marie's place.   
A few phone calls were all it took for Marie to put in an offer. The vendors were keen to accept as there was no chain.   
Wheels were in motion. Barring disaster, the flat would be theirs.   
The conversation was merry and animated. George, as ever, attached to Malcolm's side, seated next to him, looking at him every so often and smiling to himself.  
"Can't get over meeting you again after all these years!" He smiled. "And with my dear girl too!"   
The fact that Malcolm wasn't even born when he did his NS was completely lost on the poor old chap.   
Around ten Malcolm eventually rose to leave.   
"I'll see you out." Marie followed him to the front door.   
"Fuck it all......give us a kiss!" Malcolm wrapped himself around her, once they were out of sight in the hallway.   
"Oh! Malcolm. I REALLY don't want you to go! This move can't go quickly enough, so that we don't have to go our separate homes again! I hate it!"   
His tongue touched gently against her neck, his lips against her pulse point.   
"Fuck! It's going to be a bloody long night!" She gasped.   
He was hard against her, she could feel his pressure against her thigh.  
"I'll see you tomorrow after work, okay?" He whispered, "I'll be home by six."   
"Okay. After I've seen Mum and Dad off, I've got some stuff to sort out in the afternoon. I'll be at yours as soon as I can."   
"You're on a promise remember....." His voice was raw and breathy.   
"A promise?" She repeated, squirming as his hand kneaded her breast through her jumper.   
"Yeah.....you promised me......a......um......massage......."   
His mouth captured hers before she could reply, covering and almost smothering her with his desire.   
"You want that then, do you?" She smiled under his lips, knowing full well that he did.  
"Fuck yeah! Willing to try anything once!" His eyes scanned her face hungrily, he pushed himself against her once more.   
"Then I guess I'll have to oblige! You be prepared, and you'll need some lube!" She pushed him back, away from her body reluctantly.   
"Okay! Fuck.....I'm going to be hard all fucking day!" He smirked.   
"The anticipation is the best part!" She smiled. "Now go home! And I'll see YOU tomorrow, Mister!"   
He peeled himself from her, with one last lingering kiss, and she opened the front door.   
"Night Malc!"   
"Night you fucking gorgeous, fucking hot, beautiful woman you!" He whispered harshly, as a cab rounded the corner and pulled up outside.


	22. Nuclear.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is a nervous wreck.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The intensity is wracked up in this chapter, as is the explicit nature.  
> If it isn't for you then you can skip this chapter and not lose the sense of the story. 
> 
> This chapter took a while to write, as I wanted to get it right and I didn't want it to be gratuitous. Rather I wanted it to be an exploration of Malcolm's trust and an affirmation of their feelings for each other and their bond.  
> I hope I've achieved that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.  
NUCLEAR.

Like a cat on hot bricks. Nervous and agitated.  
If Sam noticed, she was too polite to ask or say anything. The morning dragged by. The Christmas recess was coming up and it was a quiet time generally.  
Malcolm was glad of that in some ways, but today he would have preferred to be busy.  
Every time he thought about Marie his cock swelled. He considered popping home for a lunchtime wank, but thought better of it.  
He'd just have to ride it out.  
He also considered the gym downstairs for a cold shower, but decided against that too. 

Fucking ridiculous, he was nearly fifty for Christ's sake.

He felt like a hormonal teenager.  
Horny as fuck.

A reasonably experienced man in the bedroom.  
The first to admit he was pretty vanilla in his tastes. To him sex had always been about pleasing the woman he was with, rather than himself. He derived pleasure from it of course, a great deal of pleasure, but his wife was as selfish in that area as she was selfish in most things. During his marriage he'd become accustomed to going without. She'd tried unsuccessfully to control him, it backfired on her spectacularly. Malcolm didn't want to be controlled, he wanted to express himself, he wanted to love and be loved. He wanted to give and receive, but she was all about denial. 

His. 

Other girlfriends he'd been out with had never really stuck around long enough to be in that exalted position of trust required for the more 'adventurous' aspects of love-making.  
Pro's and mistresses were most certainly not to be trusted either and were just not his thing. Nor were sex toys and dressing up. He most certainly wasn't into punishment and pain.  
He'd watched his fair share of porn, purchased the top of the shelf skin mags, but as far as the practical went he was severely lacking in both experience and knowledge of anything much beyond the conventional.  
As five o clock drew nearer, he began packing up. Sam left early as it was Parents Evening at their son's school.  
He couldn't wait to get home. 

oOo

By the time Marie arrived he was nervous and jittery.  
He kissed her fervently, as she stepped inside.  
"So fucking glad to see you!" 

They ate together and his knee bounced constantly. A glass of wine was all he could manage.  
Throughout the meal he cast her furtive glances.  
She paused, her fork halfway towards her mouth.  
"Malcolm, what's the matter with you? You're like you've got ants in your pants!"  
"Sorry! I'm just going a wee bit fucking mental here. That's all." He drained his glass and stood to clear the empty plates.  
"Malcolm, we don't have to do this now. Not if it makes you uncomfortable, it's not supposed to be an unpleasant thing, it's supposed to be pleasurable."

He sat back down on the dining chair like he'd been stung.  
"FUCK NO!" He almost shouted. "Fuck no!" He repeated more quietly, "I want this, I do."  
"Okay........Malcolm, listen to me." She drew herself into his lap, running a placating hand across his chest. "It requires you to place yourself in my hands, and that might be further than you're prepared to go. It takes patience and trust, as well as love.  
It's a deeply intense and powerful thing. You are basically submitting to me, allowing me to penetrate you like that, it's not for every man. You don't have to do it......okay?"  
"Marie.....I want to trust myself to you.....I do trust you, I've never been in this position in my fucking life before, and with you I feel like it's right, and I want that intensity. Please."  
His face was anxious and eager all at the same time.  
"Okay, let's go get in the tub. Help you relax." 

oOo

Warm, soothing water, bubble bath, both of them together.  
Marie bathed him, like he was some kind of fucking Roman emperor, he thought, letting the rivulets of water run over his body, calming and comforting him, as he soaked.  
Sponging him gently.  
He closed his eyes, let himself sink with a sigh.  
No one had ever treated him like this in his entire life.  
Didn't quite know what to make of it. It was messing with his head.  
Handing himself over.  
Fuck.

"I'm going to get out now, you cleanse yourself thoroughly, and I'll be waiting."  
She stood up, her body wet and glistening. Malcolm avidly took in the swell of her breasts, the dark areola, the hair at the apex of her legs, waxed into a strip, the beautiful curve of her hip, and the little stretch marks across her belly. He loved every inch of her body.  
Beautiful, utterly beautiful.  
He licked his lips.  
She smiled seductively.  
Wrapping herself in a towel, she left him to it.  
He followed her moments later. To his surprise, she took his towel and began to dry him off, a little ritual of love. Giving him tender kisses, and crooning to him.  
It seemed to please her greatly, attending to him like this, he stood before her, as one completely helpless. 

Taking his hand gently, she bade him lie down, on his back, while she fussed and fretted over him, propping him up slightly on pillows, allowing him to see down his own body, she then directed him to bend his knees up slightly and part his legs, opening himself up to her, but she didn't touch him directly.  
Rather she began to massage his chest and lower stomach, moving in gentle circles, whilst she spoke softly to him.  
"Close your eyes Malcolm." She whispered. "Concentrate on deep breaths, and relax. In. Out. Slowly.......just. In. Out. That's it! Take it easy, okay?"  
His breathing was rapid and shallow, and he was hard as iron, his cock standing to attention in anticipation, straining up towards his navel.  
Gradually he began to calm.

"I'm gonna use loads of lube, but if it hurts, or you don't like it, or you want me to stop, just tell me, okay? And I'm going to wear a glove, not just for cleanliness sake, but because you don't want a fingernail against the wall of your colon, the glove is smooth and will protect you."  
He opened his eyes slowly and nodded.  
Naked, Marie positioned herself comfortably between his legs, giving him an exquisite view of her body, as well as letting him see what she was doing.  
"Keep looking at me Malcolm, okay, I want you to look at me.......all the time."  
His eyes locked on hers, a begging, avid look in them, as she continued her gentle massage, but now took in his erect shaft and his balls, cupping him pleasingly, stroking along his length, then working down behind his sac and underneath, around his arse.  
"Shit!"  
Malcolm sucked in a sharp breath, as the cold of the lube and the pad of her finger moved against his anus, she spoke softly to him the whole while, and his eyes gazed at hers, glazed almost in reverence, as gradually his nerve circle relaxed and opened to admit her finger.  
Immediately she stilled, taking her time, no rush or force, allowing him to adjust to the sensation, to work up to the idea of being penetrated thus.  
"Okay?" She asked quietly.  
"Yeah! Fuck!" Was all he could manage.  
After a moment or two she crooked her finger and began to apply the gentlest of pressure about two inches inside him, finding the sacred spot, pressing and rubbing the gland through his rectal wall, releasing an array of the most sublime sensations. 

It began to have an effect immediately. He opened up to her. Allowing her to add a second finger. His hips moved almost without him realising it, his eyelids fluttered.  
"Holy fuck!" He whispered, his breathing increasing.  
"Good?" She asked, his head fell back, eyes closing as he hit a wall of sensory overload.  
" Look at me Malcolm, look at me."  
"Jesus fucking Christ!"  
His eyes were wide with astonishment, fixed on hers once more. Seeing so much in her face......sexual empowerment, her gift to him, giving him ecstatic pleasure.  
The feeling was almost too overwhelming, and Malcolm began to suck in air rapidly, the most profound experience he'd ever had.  
"I feel like I'm on the edge of coming......holy fuck, Marie, I can't handle it! Fuck!"  
"You want me to stop?" She placed a calming hand on his belly, then smoothed his inner thigh, a soothing gesture.  
Arresting her movement for a moment, not withdrawing, but giving him time to simmer down.

As powerful as the physiological stimulation was, it paled when compared to the immeasurably greater psychological high. The very notion of Malcolm placing himself into such a vulnerable position, resulted in a powerful mental rush. His willingness, as a naturally controlling male to allow himself to be placed in an unaccustomed submissive role, was something that Marie cherished.  
She was turned on by it too.  
It was almost a ceremonial act, a deep bonding, a show of great faith between them. The tremendous release of emotional and physical stress that Malcolm was experiencing was almost too much to bear.  
"I could bring you close, over and over again, Malcolm, but I'm not going to overdo it, not your first time, it's too much, and I want you to enjoy it, the idea is not to wring you out and leave you in bits!"

"Marie.......fuck......fuck.......I can't even........shit, don't fucking stop......I'm begging you! Oh! My god.......fuck......fuck......."  
"Inventive use of vocabulary Malcolm!" She smiled.  
"No. Other. Word. Fuck!" He whimpered pathetically.

Resuming her gentle stroking, controlling the pressure subtly, so that she achieved maximum stimulation, she closed her hand around his straining member and began to pump him, with an easy, fluid motion, whilst her forefinger continued to work inside him. The rich, super sensitive nerve endings tingling and enhancing his arousal still further. 

Malcolm was beyond speech. Moans and cries coming from him, tears on his cheeks, his hips rising and falling as he concentrated on the rhythm of her hand and her finger.  
He felt as if he were perpetually on the edge of orgasm, being drawn out of himself, floating, sheer ecstasy, but it didn't end, although he knew it must, and very soon.

On the brink. 

Gentle and soothing encouragement coming from her. Words of passion and love and fire.

So close.

Overwhelmingly powerful. His mind humming, body writhing now, out of control, as still she spoke to him. Her voice so sweet and soft. "Bear down Malcolm, push back onto my hand, trust me."  
Malcolm obeyed, gasping at the sensation it gave him. Driving him onwards. 

"Come for me Malcolm. Come for me, let it go! Let everything go. Let it wash over you. Give yourself to me!" 

With her final words he exploded. Spurting onto his abdomen. His cock pulsing, emptying himself, his moment of climax stretched out, wondrous, healing and acutely spiritual.

"FUCK!! OH FUCK ! FUCK! FUCK! Marie! Oh sweet Jesus!" 

As he came down from the powerful aftershocks, Marie moved up from her seated position, close by his side. Removing her glove and disposing of it, she took a washcloth, and cleaned him. Taking great care and with a warm tenderness. It took him a long time to recover.  
Raw and open.  
He was overcome with emotion, humbled by her treatment of him.  
Once she was satisfied that he was comfortable and not in any discomfort, she gave him a t shirt to wear and some boxers, and brought him a hot drink.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice trembled. 

"Aftercare Malcolm! It's as important to me as the act itself. It's showing that a trust given is a trust received. You just let me fuck you. It's me respecting you. Its mutual. It's essential." 

Pulling the duvet up and over his body, she made sure he was warm and content. Snuggling up beside him and caressing him.  
It made him feel so completely loved, so cherished, and inexpressibly, so utterly safe, that he began to sob.  
He lost control.  
Deep, wracking sobs. A floodgate from profound endorphin release. The aftermath of the intense experience.  
No words were needed, just being held, surrounded by loving arms.  
Sincere and complete.  
"Nothing." He wept, "nothing has ever come close........I can't even fucking describe it. Never thought I'd actually _enjoy_ being taken up the arse. Thought it was pretty much just a gay thing. Or that I'd ever let anyone do it to me. Fuck! It's so intense! I can't even tell you what I feel for you right now.....there just aren't any words. None! That you would give me that! I'm fucking lost. Wrecked. Fuck!"  
His tears subsided, he curled into her side like a dog in its basket, knees up, head tucked into her neck.

He slept.

Deep.

When he woke in the wee small hours, he made love to her, with more passion than he knew himself capable of. 

They slept again. 

Right through his alarm.

He was late for work.

So was she.

Entering his office, he met Sam's eye briefly. He coloured beetroot red.  
She smiled, knowingly, but said nothing!  
Nine years......and she'd never seen a look like that on his face. 

Ever.

He was deliriously happy. Intoxicated with love. Sam's heart sang.


	23. The Last Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sam's last day working for Malcolm.....it's emotional. 
> 
> Then it's Malcolm's last day two weeks later........

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.  
THE LAST DAYS. 

The office had a party atmosphere.  
It was nothing to do with Malcolm. Sam has specifically and categorically stated that she didn't want a fuss, she just wanted to fade away quietly.  
Malcolm had taken her at her word. The dinner party had been his way of saying goodbye, it was perfect and Sam wanted nothing more.  
But there were many office and clerical staff who had known her for a very long time.  
Although she was employed personally by Malcolm, not by the Civil Service or the Party, many of her colleagues were very sorry to see her go.  
They'd arranged a 'do'.  
There was bunting, and copious alcohol and 'nibbles'. Music playing.  
Cards and presents and a cake. 

It had been laid out while she was at lunch and she'd returned to find herself in the middle of a surprise shindig.  
Truthfully she was faintly annoyed and greatly embarrassed, but she had to make the best of it.  
Standing chatting to friends and workmates, some of whom had left in the interim and been asked back especially, old faces, old memories.  
She glanced Malcolm's way several times.  
He was away to one side, cradling a glass of squash, looking uncomfortable and fidgety.  
People spoke to him and he nodded and smiled politely but he found it difficult to enter into the spirit of the thing.  
Sam heard several cruel comments which upset her greatly.

_"Miserable old sod, he didn't even attempt to give her a send off.....after all these years, and after all she's had to put up with!"_

_"Not so much as a glass of champagne, if we hadn't have done something, she'd have gone off with nothing!"_

_"He's always been a selfish pig. Foul mouth too. Don't know how she's stuck him all these years!"_

_"You'd think he could at least have got her something, by way of a thank you!"_

She fingered the opal, hanging around her neck, and looked across at him, giving him a sympathetic little smile.  
He didn't return it, but gave a barely noticeable nod, before casting his eyes down in haste.  
They thought so poorly of him.  
If only they knew.

Not that he'd ever tried to be popular, on the contrary, he'd almost gone out of his way to be the opposite.  
Well, it'd certainly worked.  
It seemed they all hated him. 

Sam made small talk, circulated, as she must.  
Gratefully accepted the good wishes, the hugs, the plaudits.  
When she looked for Malcolm again she found he'd disappeared. 

Making her excuses, pleading a lavatory break, she went in search of him.  
His office door was closed.  
It had been open before.  
She took two glasses of champagne from the tray. 

"There you are!"  
He was seated at his desk. Head in his hands.  
Apparently deep in thought.  
"You didn't know about all this, I take it?" She crossed the room and stood before him.  
"No idea." He replied shortly.  
She shimmied around the corner of the desk until she was next to him, her backside resting against it.  
Holding out one glass of champagne.  
His long fingers closed around the flute delicately, he lifted it in salute, and put it to his lips.  
"To you Sam!" He said quietly. "My best mate!" 

Putting her glass aside, she reached her arms out to him, and he rose and did the same, before moving into them. 

They held each other.

Just that.

Tight.

Her arms around his neck, up on tip toe. His round her body, clasped at her back.  
Neither spoke.  
Words were unnecessary. Sam sniffed several times, welling up.  
"God, I'm going to miss you!" She whispered eventually. "We have to make sure we keep in touch Malcolm. It's really important to me, yeah?"  
"Don't worry Sam. We will. We've been friends too long to lose it now. But it's gonna be weird not seeing you everyday."  
"I really do love you Malcolm, you know that, right?"  
She cupped her hands around his face.  
"I don't deserve it." He smiled wanly, "but I love you to! We have a lot of history, you and me!"  
She kissed him, a gentle touch. Not a wild snog, but not a chaste peck either.  
They broke.  
"You'd better go back to the party." He remarked thickly. "They'll wonder where you've gone."  
"What are you going to do?" She asked softly.  
"Think I'll just slip away, if it's okay with you?" He replied, still not releasing her from his embrace.  
"Of course!.........so this is goodbye then?" Her thumb moved across his cheek.  
He pulled her into him once more, the side of his head resting against hers.  
"Fuck! I feel like this is really the end of an era. The end of everything. Nothing is ever going to be the same again, Sam. For you or me!"  
"I feel it too! .........Goodbye Malcolm. Take care of yourself. And take care of Marie too. Most of all, be happy."  
He smiled then, although his mouth wobbled, looking at her face, touching it gently.  
"I'll try my very best. And you, you carry on doing what you do so well, and be a great wife and a brilliant mum!  
I would have liked kids, it's too late for me now, but you nurture them and love them and watch them grow, and enjoy your life. Goodbye Sam!"  
She separated herself from him, and moved away, retrieving her glass.  
"Marie is dropping in soon, to say cheerio, she's going to take my boxes and stuff for me, won't you stay to see her?"  
"Nah! I'll see her at home later. I'll make myself scarce soon. It's best I think." He drained his flute, and set it down.  
"I understand...........Dinner. At ours. Soon. Okay?" She said cheerily. It was a cheerfulness she didn't feel.  
"Absolutely! I'll hold you to it!" He gave her a thumbs up, and she left, quietly closing the door behind her. 

oOo

If the truth be known Malcolm wanted to leave work at the same time as Sam.  
The thought of coming into the office and her not being there was, frankly, abhorrent.  
In the end it hadn't panned out that way. There was an overlap of a fortnight.  
Two weeks with a temp, who would have been better off in the Big Brother House.  
A vacuous air head. With the dress sense of Eddie from Ab Fab.  
Fucking hell. 

One day she wore purple tights. 

A skirt so short that when she bent down he could see what she'd had for breakfast.  
He wasn't sure if it was just what she wore, or if it was all for his benefit, but whatever it was, he could well do without it.  
At last the Friday came. He'd been carefully and surreptitiously taking his stuff home, over the previous few days.  
Not that he had much. His desk drawers. Some stuff on the shelves. Two or three boxes at most.  
The last thing he wanted was to be seen leaving with his container of worldly possessions in his arms. 

Marie was still working in the building and had managed to pop in a couple of times, over the previous days.  
Everything had remained mercifully quiet, no shit storms, no speeches or conferences, nothing much happening at all.  
Thank God.  
It would soon be Christmas, the place was winding down.

Malcolm was winding down too.  
At five on the dot, on that particular Friday.  
Malcolm Tucker, once the Dark Lord of Downing Street, the Thin White Mugabe, Iago with a Blackberry, cleared the remainder of his desk into a carrier bag.  
Closing down his desk top computer, having extracted his contact details and any other relevant files in the last weeks of Sam's tenure. He left nothing to chance.  
Tidying away coffee cups and any other detritus.  
Paperwork and files neatly piled and ready for whoever took his place on Monday morning.  
He watered the office Yucca plant, he'd never watered the fucking thing before, he hated it, but tonight he did. It was a parting gesture.  
Resetting his Blackberry to factory settings, and took out the sim and pocketed it, having copied the info he required from it previously.  
He left it behind.  
Taking his overcoat and his favourite Paul Smith scarf from the coat stand by Sam's old desk, he wished the temp a pleasant weekend, and left the building. 

No one noticed.  
Not a soul said a word to him.  
That was it. It was over. 

He was free.


	24. The Move.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is now officially retired......how can he stave off the boredom.......?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.  
THE MOVE. 

It was the weirdest thing.  
Waking at the time his alarm would normally trill. Drilling into his befuddled brain before he usually hauled himself out of bed to begin the working day.  
Lying on his back, staring up at a spider that was working its way busily across the ceiling above his head.  
Marie was at her own place. She had an early breakfast meeting to attend.  
He was alone.  
Suddenly he felt rather empty. If she had been beside him it might have been different.  
She wasn't.  
Had he made a fucking huge mistake?  
The prospect of the day stretched out before him like a yawning maw. A black hole.  
With nothing to fill it.  
Fuck.

By the time he was pottering around in the kitchen listening to the Today programme, his mind was made up.  
He would begin his writing. That very day.  
His head was full of 'stuff'.......what better way to get rid of it, than by writing the fuck out of it?  
Why wait?  
Deeply cathartic, he knew it would pour out of him like water through a sieve.  
He was determined not to fall into the trap of consciously trying to occupy his time. He would be bored by the end of a week.  
Instead he would apply himself. As he always had. Meet the enemy face on, get off his arse.....

and win! 

His phone vibrated insistently.

"Marie!" 

_"Morning! Are you still in bed, your Lordship?"_

"No I'm fucking not! Bloody cheek! Your meeting done already?"

_"Yep! All finished. But I'm ringing because I've had a phone call from the estate agent. They are hoping to complete this week. Exchange contracts by Friday! They will be in by the beginning of December barring fire, flood and famine!!"_

"Fucking hell. That's quick!" 

_"I know! And.....hey Malc?"_

"What?" 

_"I have more news......."_

"Oh? What is it?" 

_"I've handed in my notice. I'm outta here! End of the month."_

"Fuck! Really? Fuck. It's real then? We're actually fucking doing this?" 

_"Yep! I'm shit scared, but I don't care! Don't you let me down Malcolm Tucker, or I'll have to hire a hit man!"_

"Don't worry. I won't! Fuck! .........I fucking love you, you know that, yeah?"

_"Yeah. I do! Listen I gotta go......I'll call you again later, we on for tonight, if I come to yours?"_

"You already know the answer to that! Bye love!!"

_"Bye Malcolm.......love you to bits!!"_

A click and she was gone.  
Fuck it.  
So much for sitting and writing! Now all he wanted to do was shout from the rooftops!!

 

oOo

Finishing work meant that suddenly they were both free.  
Marie's last day came round very quickly, November sneaked into December.  
Malcolm really began to really feel he was in a proper grown up relationship. 

They were a couple. 

With her parents impending move it was just as well.  
There was so much to do, if they'd still been trying to combine the two, it would have been exhausting.  
Several trips backwards and forwards to Yorkshire.  
Packing. Cleaning. Chucking away the accumulated crap of a lifetime! 

George was greatly upset by the contents of his home being boxed up before his very eyes.  
Nothing was in its original position, shelves bare, pictures gone from the walls. Everything upside down.  
Malcolm spent a great deal of time talking quietly to him. Pointedly asking him about his National Service days, to give him a point on which to focus.  
Helping to ground him and keep him anchored, as all around him shifted and moved, throwing him off kilter.  
"We were at Woolwich Barracks, weren't we Jock? Do you remember? I recall a night out drinking, at the Lamb and Flag, we met a couple of girls, but we were late returning and had to climb back in over the wall, to avoid being put on a charge! Lucky we didn't get caught!"  
Malcolm allowed him reminisce to his hearts content. 

oOo

The actual day of the move was traumatic in the extreme.  
Marie was so busy helping her mother that she really had to leave her father in Malcolm's capable hands.  
Despite his devotion to his Pammy, George's confusion was such that memories of Jock were all he could focus on.  
The removal van was packed and on its way.  
A last sweep of the empty house, to make sure all was left clean and tidy for the new occupants.  
"I don't see why we have to do this. It's our home. I'm not going to like the new place!" He whined, his voice shaky.  
"Because you'll be close to Marie, and she'll be able to see you easily. It'll be less to look after for Pammy, and more convenient for everything........and I'll be there too. You'll soon settle in George, and it'll feel like home." Malcolm soothed him. 

They set up the new living room as close to the layout of their old house as they possibly could.  
Unpacking, Marie had labelled the boxes so that she could put the main room to rights as soon as they arrived.  
It gave George a feeling of security, to see all the photographs on the shelves in exactly the place he was used to, seeing the fireside rug, and his favourite armchair, ready for him to sit in.  
Malcolm set up the television and switched it on, he could then be left to sit in front of it, blissfully detached from it all.  
As the removal men worked to bring in the rest of the furniture, Marie could begin to put the rest of the flat in order, disturbing him as little as possible.  
Later, Malcolm took him to the pub. For a quiet pint.  
The television was on in there too, a big screen, and George was soon contentedly engrossed in the football. 

It was late when they finally left the elderly couple to their own devices.  
"Let's go for a Chinese." Malcolm suggested, as the drove away.  
She'd left them sitting at the table in the kitchen, scoffing a plate of the casserole she'd made for them, happy as two peas in a pod.  
It was a huge relief.  
"God yes! I could murder some crispy duck rolls."  
He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her cheek.  
"What a day! I'm knackered!" She breathed. "God, I hope they'll be alright! The care package starts tomorrow, the social services rang earlier to say it's all in hand."  
"Excellent! Having people going in a couple of times a day will make a huge difference. Your dad will get used to them coming, he'll get to know the routine. It must be baffling for him, I hope I don't get like that when I'm old.....it's awful to watch. And so sad to listen to him talking, he really thinks I'm Jock.....he has no clue who I am really. It's heartbreaking." 

They acquired a table at The Blue Lotus, a local restaurant near Malcolm's house.  
How pleasant it was to just sit together like this, enjoy a meal. No work the next day.  
Malcolm still couldn't get used to it. Or quite believe it.

"I'm putting my house on the market in January, soon as Christmas is over. I'll start moving my stuff in to yours. If that's okay with you that is? God!......tell me.......are we doing the right thing Malcolm?" She asked through a mouthful of crispy seaweed.  
"I fucking hope so! We're both completely mental......aren't we? Like a couple of fucking young lovers, just out of uni or something! Shit, I'll be fifty in a year or so!" His face was a picture of happy confusion.  
"Well I'm forty-one! It's ridiculous! I just never saw this coming......never in a million years! It's weird how things turn out!" She smiled.  
"Fucking crazy! I didn't even like you when we first met, I thought you were an interfering old cow!"  
Malcolm heaped more rice onto his plate.  
"Thanks very fucking much!" She grinned, pinching the last prawn cracker out from under his hand.  
"Hey!!" He cried. 

Malcolm switched on the light in the hall.  
"Want a tea? Or coffee?" He said, heading towards the kitchen.  
"Yeah! Tea please. Hey, come here lover, and give me a kiss!"  
He moved into her willingly, his eyes heavy lidded, pupils dilated.  
"Fuck, you smell good!" He breathed, nuzzling into her neck.  
"Thank you for all you've done today Malcolm. You've been an absolute star. If I'd had to do all this alone I would have really struggled. You've been amazing, and I love you for it! I always want to be by your side, if you'll have me."  
"Fuck yeah! You're never getting rid of me! Not now. This is it......massive fucking life changing moments! No going back now!!"  
They kissed for long moments, their mouths playing one on the other, warmth, affection, tenderness.  
The moment was suddenly and abruptly fractured by the ringing of her mobile. 

"Hello?" 

"Oh......hi sweetheart!" 

Malcolm gave a an eyebrow raise, by way of a query.  
She mouthed back to him......"my daughter!" 

The conversation continued for several moments, back and forth, as Malcolm waited patiently, playing with a strand of stray hair, placing little kisses on her neck.  
She squirmed and tried not to giggle or betray her gasps down the phone.  
Hanging up, he paused in his attentions and regarded her quizzically.  
"That was my daughter. She and my son and their partners are coming over, in three weeks."  
She breathed, nervously.

 

"They want to spend Christmas with us, Malcolm!"  
"Oh fuck!" He groaned.


	25. Missing Person.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is rudely awakened at fuck o clock in the morning.......

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.  
MISSING PERSON. 

Hot, dry, thirsty and alone.   
Malcolm shielded his eyes from the burning sun. Trying to gauge the horizon, which shimmered in the distance.  
He looked down at his feet. They were bare, and torn, infinitely painful. His head swam, the dehydration, the intense heat.   
Suddenly he could see movement ahead, a person or persons.  
Calling out though his rasping throat, he stumbled forwards towards the mirage.   
As he drew closer, he could see it was a woman, serene, beautiful, dressed in linen, and a wide brimmed hat.   
Seemingly untroubled by the desert around her or the arid waste. Miles of nothing but sand.  
It was Marie. She wasn't alone as he'd first thought. A young woman and a young man stood beside her. They were all laughing at him cruelly, just as his ex wife used to. He pleaded with her, holding out his sunburnt hand.   
"MARIE!" He shouted. 

"Malcolm? Sweetie? Wake up! You're dreaming!"   
He woke with a yelp, her name dying on his lips, and sat bolt upright, breathing in gasps. Damp with sweat.   
She was sitting up beside him, her hand gently on his chest, speaking softly to him.   
"You okay, darling?" She soothed him.  
"Fuck!" He passed a hand across his eyes. "I had a dream......it was horrible."   
"What did you dream?"   
He told her briefly what he'd seen, but left out the hideous memory that reminded him of his ex.   
She listened quietly, then pulled him close, to comfort him.   
"It's alright. It's just a silly dream. Don't let it upset you. Are you that worried about meeting my kids?"   
"Yeah. Crapping myself. I don't want to fuck up."   
"Malcolm, trust me. You won't fuck up. I love you, okay? Shall I go and make some tea?" 

She came back with two cups, and they drank in silence. Malcolm snuggled down beside her and she switched out the light. He soon drifted back in to sleep.  
It seemed like a very short time later, although it was actually two hours, that he was woken again, this time by Marie's mobile on the bedside table, ringing loudly.   
He glanced at the clock. It was just after six ack emma.   
Fuck.  
Marie answered it sleepily. Then seemed to snap awake.  
"Oh my god!" She said. "Okay.......okay, mum, it's alright. We'll be there in less than half an hour."  
She rang off, and turned to Malcolm, her eyes wide with panic and fear.

"That was mum, she's woken up and Dad's gone!" 

oOo

Reaching the new flat they were met at the door by a white faced, desperate Pamela.  
Numb with anxiety.  
"Oh Marie, I woke up and he wasn't there. I thought he must have got up to make tea, he does sometimes, but he wasn't there either......his coat has gone, but not his shoes. Where on earth can he be? I'm out of my mind with worry."   
"Okay, we'll have a quick scout around. Do you know how long he might have been missing?" Malcolm asked.  
"No idea, might be an hour, maybe more. Where would he go? He doesn't know anywhere around here....." She stammered.  
"I'll go to the pub and the tea shop.....and along the row of shops. If he isn't there we must phone the police."  
Malcolm turned to leave.   
"Marie.....you and your mum look and see if any clothes are missing, so we can gauge what he might be wearing. Does he have any money? Or anywhere where he can get hold of some?"   
"There was some cash in the old teapot. I keep it for emergencies. I think he's wearing his pyjamas, but his coat and scarf are gone. Oh god! Anything might happen!" Pamela was in tears.

Malcolm ran down to the row of shops. The pub was all closed up but the cafe was open.  
He asked after George inside, but no one had seen him. It soon became obvious he was nowhere in the vicinity.   
Where the fuck would the old boy go?   
Back to Yorkshire? With little or no money? He doubted it, but couldn't be certain.   
Returning to the flat, he rung the police.   
To their credit it wasn't long before they arrived.   
"He has dementia, officer." Malcolm said. "We think he's in his slippers and pyjamas with his over coat on top. It's fucking cold out there......Christ knows where he's gone. But maybe it's worth chasing down at the station, in case he's on his way back 'home'. We're not sure how long he's been gone, but if he's on his way back to the village, he won't be there yet."  
Marie gave the officer a recent photo. 

Waiting. 

Hours passed. 

Malcolm had driven the streets in a two or three mile radius.   
Nothing.   
He'd checked the pub and the shops again.   
Marie had been to the park.   
Vanished.  
Seemingly without trace.

Malcolm was affected profoundly, as if he felt in some way responsible for the old fellow.  
Thoughts of him wandering aimlessly, lost and confused, tormented him. He might be mugged, or robbed, or run over, anything could happen.   
Where the fuck would he go? 

The phone rang.  
The Yorkshire Constabulary had checked out the station, and York trains, and had been to the old house.  
Nothing. Nada. Not a sausage. 

Fuck.

It was a long shot, anyway but you clutch at straws when you're desperate.   
Pamela broke down in tears again. Visions of him being found dead in a ditch somewhere assailed her.   
Marie tried to keep her mother positive, but she was seriously worried herself. 

The afternoon wore on.   
Malcolm paced. Eventually he decided to set off in search once again. He had to feel as though he were doing something, however futile.   
Anything was better than sitting here. Inert. Helpless.

"Fuck it. I'm away out!" Malcolm announced suddenly. "You stay here. In case there's any news."   
Marie kissed him, and he left without another word. 

He drove. 

No real idea of destination. Stopping occasionally. Scanning the passers by. Needle in a haystack.

Then a sudden thought struck him........

It was worth a try, he did a U turn in the middle of the road.....cars honked angrily. He gave the middle finger! 'Fuck you!'

He headed towards Woolwich. The streets around the barracks were quiet. George would've had to catch at least three different buses to get here......but somehow......Malcolm thought.....it's been on his mind so much lately......  
He rounded the corner by the barracks wall, driving slowly........

And there he was!

Malcolm pulled over. 

Seated on a wooden bench. Hunched with cold.  
In tartan slippers, striped pyjamas, his dark wool coat and a scarf. 

Thank fuck! 

Malcolm sat down on the bench next to him, so as not to alarm the old chap.   
"George!" He whispered, with relief. "Here you are!"  
George turned to look at him, blinking sadly, then his eyes brightened with recognition.  
"Jock!" He beamed happily. "Where on earth have you been? I've been waiting ages. You're late!"  
"I'm so sorry! Please forgive me." Malcolm hugged him, holding him tight, his emotions in turmoil. "How the fuck did you get here? I've been looking everywhere for you!"   
"I don't remember......I.........I'm cold Jock! Very cold!" He finished lamely.  
"Come on mate, let's get you home!" Malcolm put an arm around his shoulder, and guided him gently, into the car. He whacked the heater up high and turned the blowers on.   
"When we get home, I'll get Pammy to make you a nice hot cup of tea!"   
He quickly texted Marie, then pulled away, heading back to the flat.   
George sitting quite oblivious, and now completely contented, in the passenger seat beside him. 

Marie's phone pinged. She grabbed it.  
Then burst into a sob. Her mother looked up, anguished.  
"Malcolm's found him!" She cried.  
"Oh thank god!" Pamela wrung her hands.   
Marie rung the police on the number they'd given her. 

Almost eight hours. 

It was now late afternoon.   
What a day! 

oOo

 

Strains of Ludovico Einaudi filled the room, peaceful piano chords, rippling and soothing.   
Malcolm was in the kitchen, making pasta, something he found relaxing when he needed to think.   
Marie was silent.   
Brooding and morose. Seated on the sofa, staring unseeing at the wall opposite, as the music washed over her.   
Malcolm noticed her mood straight away, but decided to let her tell him in her own good time.   
His own thoughts were churning. Thinking about the baffled expression on George's face when he'd walked up to him at Woolwich, it made him irrepressibly sad.   
At dinner she pushed her food around the plate with her fork, playing with it but not eating it.   
Finally she heaved a sigh. 

"How can I do it Malcolm?" She asked, randomly.  
"Do what?" He replied, placing down his cutlery and steepling his fingers in front of his face.   
"How can I go swanning off to Europe with you, and leave them? What if it happens again? Or he gets worse?" She was close to tears.   
"It won't get better, you know that, it's progressive. But it might be years and years Marie. Physically he's perfectly fit. He's nearly 80. He could easily live for another ten years. I hope he does. But your life can't be put on hold indefinitely, otherwise when is your time? And I'm not being selfish here, I'm being truthful......when do you get your time?.......you were young when you married, you dedicated yourself to bringing up your kids, you did a fantastic job. Best part of twenty years of struggle. Now do you spend the rest of your middle age caring for your parents?" He reasoned.  
"But mum won't be able to cope alone, not indefinitely. It'll become too much for her. Then what?"  
Tears coursed down her face, unchecked.   
Malcolm stood up, and came around the table to give her a cuddle. 

"This won't resolve itself easily Marie. We can arrange carers and other help to go in, and day centre care, occupational therapy, and anything else that needs to be done. They'll have support and back up. We'll put a child lock on the front door, or an alarm or something, so that he can't wander off like that again. Although I think once he settles it'll be better. I think he's just been really put out by the move, everything he was familiar with has been tipped on its head. That's tough for him. He's regressing to past memories, looking for security."  
"But what if I'm not easily contactable, or in the middle of Tuscany or something......and something happens? I'll end up spending everyday worrying if they're alright, instead of being happy and enjoying myself with you......and I'll feel guilty that I'm not there for mum! It was bad enough when they were in Yorkshire." She sniffed, burying her head into his shoulder.  
"Look.....don't make any rash decisions yet.....hmmmm? We've got plenty of time to think and plan, we're not working to a schedule. After Christmas we'll be able to see how he's settling in, and gauge what we should do in the future. We can make tentative arrangements for our trip. Or maybe do short trips instead so we're not away for a long stretch of time......we'll work something out, okay? Don't throw it all up just yet! Let's just take things as they come.....tackle them and go on to the next hurdle......yeah?"   
She nuzzled into his neck, drying her eyes.   
"Yes. That sounds eminently sensible. I'm not thinking rationally. I'm just thinking.......shit, that's it I can't go! And maybe that's not the case. We'll do as you suggest. See how he is. Thank you Malcolm, you always manage to make me feel better!"  
He continued to hold her close, which lead to a stolen kiss, which turned into rampant snogging......

Marie extricated herself from underneath him on the couch.....where they'd ended up.  
Pulling on her rumpled discarded clothes, smoothing her ruffled hair, regaining her breath.  
Her thighs trembled like jelly.   
Malcolm lay still, legs akimbo, naked and debauched and looking extremely pleased with himself......  
"Look at you! You naughty, naughty man!" She smirked, with fond annoyance.  
He gave her a wry smile.   
"Don't look so bloody conceited!" She scolded. "You cocky sod!" 

"Oh, come on......credit where it's due!" He retorted, with a self satisfied grin.  
"Three times.......that's a fucking record for you.......you lucky woman!"

Marie giggled coyly and threw a rolled up sock at him.


	26. Happy Families.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas with the step-children is approaching........

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.  
HAPPY FAMILIES.

Marie went alone to the airport to collect her children and their partners. Malcolm considered that they should have some time alone together. To rekindle their relationship, to talk, without him being there. He felt strongly that that was the way to go. 

He met Sam for a coffee on the same day, the 23rd December. She'd sent him a text earlier in the week and they'd arranged to meet.  
He was so pleased to see her. They chatted happily for a while.

"Looking forward to Christmas?"

_"The kids are, they are mega excited!"_

"I bet! Lovely for kids.....Christmas.......magical......when they still believe." His gaze was wistful.

_"Aww! Malc! Not getting broody are you?"_

"Fuck no! That ship has sailed!" 

He heaved an 'I need to talk to you desperately' sigh.  
Sam was on the ball. She knew him far to well.

_"So.......meeting Marie's kids? Shitting yourself?"_

"Fuck yeah! They're gonna fucking hate me!" 

_"You'll be fine. Just be yourself!"_

"That's what I'm fucking afraid of!" 

_"Pretend they're a couple of errant MP's! You can handle it!"_

"Fuck! I want it to be okay for Marie's sake. I don't want her to have me on one side and her kids on the other.....you know?" 

_"Yes. I do know. You'll just have to keep your gob zipped! No controversial statements! Keep it light !"_

"Fuck! I might just wear a gag.....do you think they'll notice?"

Sam laughed, and squeezed his arm affectionately.

_"Bless you! Don't try too hard! Look Malcolm.....I have to go! We'll meet up again after the madness is over, yeah? And if it's really bad.....phone me.....or text.......I'm there okay.....even if it's Christmas Day.......I'll still reply......."_

She stood up, kissed his cheek, and grabbed up her handbag. 

"Bye! Sam.....you have a good one yeah? Oh and I almost forgot!" He reached for a carrier bag from underneath the table.  
"Presents......for your two! Nothing spectacular, but I hope they like them." 

Sam regarded him with an air of the deepest surprise. 

_"Malcolm, that's so sweet......thank you so much.......I'm sure they'll be thrilled! You have a lovely day, okay! And just chill. It'll be fine!"_

oOo

 

It was Christmas Eve. 

It was the one evening that Malcolm really wanted to be with Marie. He wanted them to exchange presents, alone, together, but it couldn't be. He hoped there would be many other christmasses when they could be with each other, but her family were more important.

Fortunately he had a great deal to do. 

They were all coming to his house for Christmas dinner. Marie's place really wasn't big enough to accommodate everyone, and Malcolm insisted he wanted Pamela and George to be there.  
He'd never cooked for eight people before. He'd never cooked Christmas dinner before.  
In years past he'd gone to his sister for Christmas. This year he and Marie were travelling up to Scotland for Hogmanay.  
It was a while since he'd even bothered with decorations.  
This year he had a real tree. He had fairy lights. He had the lot.  
Christmas as an adult had, for him, always been a bit of a humbug, commercial bollocks, but he felt he had to make the effort. 

Presents for everyone, even though he didn't even really know them. His own sense told him that expensive gifts were not the way to go. He couldn't buy their affection and he didn't want to try.  
Marie was different.  
He wanted something for her that she'd like, something special. A gift that said stuff for him, that he couldn't really express in words. He chose some earrings. She always wore earrings. Not long dangly ones, but nice little discrete ones, he spent ages hunting for the right thing. Eventually he found it.  
In Tiffany's.  
Gold......the figure of eight infinity symbol.  
Meaningful.  
Not too ostentatious.  
He was pleased. He spent a couple of hours wrapping and put the gifts under the tree.  
What a sap he felt.  
All this pretentiousness. I didn't sit well. 

oOo

He was awake very early. The radio was playing carols.  
For the first time in over two months, his stomach was playing him up.  
Fucking great!  
Everything was in hand. Nothing to do but let the oven do the work. He'd fetch Marie's mum and dad himself. Save her the bother.  
It wasn't long before her car drew up outside.  
He took one or two deep breaths, and went to open the door.

Marie came straight towards him and they kissed warmly. Malcolm couldn't help but notice a frown of disgust on her daughters face.  
Great start!  
Marie did the introductions.  
"Malcolm.....this is my daughter Abigail, Abi........and her husband Joe! And this is my son, Simon and his partner, Sophie. Everyone! This is Malcolm!"  
They all shook hands or affected two cheek kisses somewhat stiffly but cordially.  
"Mum's told me a lot about you, Malcolm!" Abi said, there was something in her manner that Malcolm immediately fastened onto......it was a veiled hostility, an unspoken resentment.  
He decided to ignore it.  
"All good I hope!" He smiled.  
"To the point of canonisation!" She responded, sarcastically. Malcolm wasn't quite sure what to say, so he said nothing. Marie hadn't seemed to notice.  
Simon appeared extremely open and amiable and chatted happily to him, about nothing in particular, but was at least genuine and friendly.  
Pamela and George were greeted lovingly by their grandchildren, and Malcolm set himself to provide drinks for everyone.

"He's grey!" Abi whispered to her mother. "So?" She replied.  
"Dunno! I expected something else I guess, he must be fifty if he's a day."  
"Forty-eight actually! But what were you expecting......Johnny Depp? George Clooney perhaps? Oh....no.....course he's grey too!"  
Her daughter huffed. 

Dinner was served around mid afternoon.  
George raised his glass.  
"To you Jock! This looks fantastic!" He beamed.  
Marie reached under the table and squeezed his hand. Her eyes were shining with happiness, and Malcolm coloured under her intense gaze. 

Throughout the day, as Malcolm struggled to make everything as nice as he possibly could, there was an undercurrent with Marie's daughter that he couldn't fathom, or know quite how to respond to.  
If he hadn't known better he would have said she was trying to goad him.  
While everyone else was perfectly amicable, she made several pointed comments, during the course of the afternoon, most of them out of earshot of her mother, little asides mainly, for his ears only.

_"So, this is all very sudden.....you and mum? Have you thought it through?"_

"Your mum is an adult, Abi. Hopefully she's grown up enough to know what she wants!" 

Later.....

_"You seem to be a confirmed bachelor, what's changed all of a sudden?"_

"Meeting your mum is what's changed. She's a very special person, and I've not met anyone who comes close.....since my divorce." 

Later still......

_"What are your plans, with mum? Only I don't want to see her get hurt, and your track record isn't exactly brilliant.....I googled you! Some choice newspaper articles, I must say! You have quite the reputation for being not very nice to know.....so just so you're aware, I'm seeing right through you......all an act I reckon!"_

Malcolm frowned, and turned to her....  
"Abi, don't believe everything you read in the papers! You don't know Jackie fucking Chan about me! I love your mum, and I'm very lucky.....because I think she loves me too. I thought you'd be happy for her?"

_"She's got very poor taste in men! She married dad for Christ's sake! An inveterate womaniser....his girlfriend has left him, you know.....we hardly see him now, he's a selfish bastard!"_

"So what are you saying? That I'm the same? I don't know how much she's told you about me, but I was married before, yes!.......my wife had numerous affairs......not me......fucked me over good and proper. But your mum and me.....we just clicked......what we have is good.....I want her to move in with me. I've asked her already, and she's said yes!" 

Marie walked into the kitchen at that point, and Abi moved away, with a pointed glance at her mother. The atmosphere was obvious and she couldn't help but notice.

_"Malcolm.....what's she said to you?"_

"Nothing love......she's just worried for you. That's all. Worried that my intentions towards you are less than honourable. That you've thrown in your lot with a wastrel, who's going to treat you like shit." 

_"Oh has she indeed!"_

"Leave it! Marie. Don't say anything. It'll be like I'm telling tales to teacher. Let it drop."

With the meal over, they were comfortably seated in the living room. George happily telling Abi all about how wonderful 'Jock' was!

"Grandad seems to be your number one fan!" She remarked to Malcolm, as he made coffee.

"Your grandad is a dear. I think the world of him. I wish my own dad had been half as nice." Malcolm filled the cafetière. 

"He's losing it though. So not a good judge of character!" She retorted.

Malcolm set down the spoon with a crack.  
He turned to her, his bollocking face on.

"Why are you doing this?" He snapped.

"Doing what?" She replied innocently.

"Trying to needle me. You've been doing it all fucking afternoon. It's Christmas, Abigail. Your mum hasn't seen you for nearly a year. I want us to get on.....if only for her sake. But if you can't manage that, then so be it. I don't judge you, but you're clearly judging me. You think you know all about me, from Google? Grow up! Be happy for her......she's been alone and miserable for a long time.....not that you'd know anything about that.....because you're all wrapped up in your lives in the States."

_"Don't you try to twist this on to me with a guilt trip. Mum's made her bed...."_

"Stop.....right there!" He held up a warning hand. "No! I'm not going to stand here and let you slag her off. She's a wonderful woman. She did a great job, all on her own, with you and your brother. Then she was left alone, for the second time in her life. Now she's finally doing a bit of living. Don't make her feel bad about that because of your own hang ups. She deserves to be happy."

"With you?" She scoffed.

"Yes. With me. If that's her choice. Don't make a war where there isn't one......and don't make her chose between us Abi. It's cruel and its grossly fucking unfair." 

Malcolm picked up the tray and brushed passed her. The conversation was over. 

After coffee, Malcolm disappeared upstairs for a few moments and sent a text to Sam.

"Happy Christmas Sam! Love to all! Xx"

_"Merry Christmas! Malc. How's it going?xxx"_

"Terrible! Abi fucking hates me....as predicted! I'm the big bad wolf!" 

_"Keep your cool Malcolm. Remember, smile and bite your tongue!"_

"Fucking trying! Can't I bite her instead lol?!" 

_"Don't let her get to you! Find a way to win! I know you will! Love you. Laters!! Xxx_

"Thanks Sam! Love you too! Xx" 

oOo

It wasn't until the evening that Abigail and Joe suddenly slipped their own plans into the equation.  
They were about to exchange presents, when she suddenly piped up, addressing her mother.  
"So, Malcolm tells me, you and he are going to live together?" She began, there was a scheming look in her eye.  
Marie shot a glance at Malcolm.  
"Hurrah!" Yelled George, waving his arms about.  
"Yes. I am." She replied, " I'm going to sell my place, in the new year."  
"Well, Joe and I have been talking..." She ploughed on regardless. "And we were thinking we might come back here to live for a while."  
"Really? Since when?" Marie was confused.  
"Since my contract finished and they asked me if I'd like to work for a year over here!" She smiled, somewhat wryly......  
"So I was thinking.....rather than sell your place, why don't we have it?" Her tone was one of triumph.  
"Have it? Buy it? Or rent it? Which did you mean dear? Only I hear you earn very good money?" Pamela suddenly spoke, looking intently at Abigail.  
Her granddaughter paused.  
"Oh, well! I hadn't thought......but I'm sure we could come to some arrangement....." She stuttered slightly.  
Malcolm remained silent.....but his mind was working very rapidly.  
Marie was now placed in the unenviable position of either seeming to be mean in asking her daughter for any financial recompense, or playing into her hands by giving her the house scot free.  
Clearly exactly what she'd intended.  
He was fuming. He was also extremely clever, far brighter than this jumped up fucking free loading little madam. 

"Actually......that would work out quite well." He butted in, before anyone else could speak. 

"Because, me and your mum.......we have decided to go off travelling for a few months......"

Marie's daughter gave a sharp intake of breath. Malcolm continued, with the slightest ghost of a smile......  
"If you take her house, you can live in it, for nothing, but in return keep a close eye on your Nan and Grandad for her. That way she won't be worried about them, she'll know you'll take really good care of them, and we'll be sure there's someone nearby they can call on if ever they need to!  
What could be nicer?" He sat back with great satisfaction. 

"But.......we......." Abigail was silenced. There was nothing she could say.  
Malcolm had bested her. 

"Hey, sis.....that's a great idea! You'll get to see lots of Nan and Grandad, and mum and Malcolm will be able to have a great time and not worry. And you get a free house. What a great idea!" 

Simon beamed at Malcolm, then gave him an exaggerated cheeky wink. He had an ally.

"Wonderful! It'll be lovely to see you Abi, and Joe of course, and he and Grandad can watch the football!" Pamela, chuckled knowingly. 

Marie clapped her hands gleefully.  
"Well!! That's settled then! Let's have presents!"


	27. Happy Hogmanay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Marie are Glasgow bound........

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN  
HAPPY HOGMANAY.

Boxing Day was a day of bliss.  
Malcolm and Marie were on their own.  
A lie in.   
Malcolm lay for a long time, awake, Marie snuggled at his side dozing, thinking just what a lucky fucker he was.  
They rose very late, Marie made them a special breakfast, with scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, they had Buck's Fizz.   
All very decadent.   
Most of the morning was spent vegging out, watching Christmas television, eating leftovers.   
Neither bothered to dress. A day spent in their dressing gowns. Malcolm didn't shave.

After lunch they made love, it was a slow and sensual experience, languid and sexy, just time spent teasing and touching, exploring and tasting.   
Deep and affirming.   
Their bodies rising and falling together, moans and whimpers and cries of passionate coupling punctuated the air.   
Malcolm never thought he could be so truly and completely happy.   
But he knew he was. 

It was fucking wonderful. 

Eventually they showered and dressed, and went for a walk. The sun was just disappearing and the winter sky was a pale rosy hue, the horizon glowing with pastel light.   
They watched it fade to blues and purples, before heading home. Arms linked, shoulder to shoulder, their faces pinched red with the chill early evening air, the stars just pricking through the velvet night.

oOo

On the 29th December Simon and Sophie were returning home to the States. The four spent the day before together. They'd shared a pub lunch, chatted, enjoyed each other's company.   
Marie wanted to see them off so Malcolm drove them all to the airport.   
It was an emotional send off.   
Simon was closest to his mum, he was so unlike his father, loyal and true, he and Sophie a lovely couple. She confidently hoped for a wedding soon.   
He spent a long time talking quietly to Marie, before their boarding call was announced. She pulled away from him in tears.   
Malcolm moved to shake his hand and say farewell, but Simon drew him to one side.  
"Malcolm, I know I'm leaving mum in safe hands with you. I hope you have an absolute ball when you go travelling. Really fucking enjoy yourselves.....yeah?"   
"Thanks Si, I appreciate it."  
"I know she loves you, and I can see how much you love her. I've never seen her so happy Malcolm. And she SO deserves it. Hopefully you'll both come out and see us when you get back, we'd like to hear all your adventures. Take care of her Malc, I'm so happy for you both, truly I am. And don't take too much notice of Abi.....she's my sister and I love her, but she takes after Dad a bit! Self absorbed! Looking after Nan and Grandad will give her a dose of perspective....do her the world of good!! Bye Malcolm. It's been fantastic meeting you."   
"Bye Simon. Have a safe journey, and we will.......we'll come and see you later in the year." 

Marie was silent in the car on the way home.  
"He's a good boy, your Simon. I'd be so proud to have had a son like that. You're lucky. He a fine young man."   
Malcolm reached across and squeezed her hand lovingly. 

oOo

The following day, the pair were seated in a scalding hot train compartment, on their way to Glasgow, for round two.   
Marie meets Clan Tucker!   
Oddly, she was not nervous particularly. Very excited, but not afraid. Of course it mattered to her what Malcolm's sister Nancy thought of her, but it held no trepidation for her.   
She couldn't wait.  
The greeting she received couldn't have been more different to the cordial formality of her kids towards Malcolm.  
She was met with crushing hugs, shrieks of excitement and tears of joy.   
It was like the return of the Prodigal Son! 

'Kill the fatted calf....have a rollicking party......Malcolm has a woman.......not only has someone been crazy enough to fall in love with him........but he's bought her home......and she's a keeper......it's a fucking miracle!'

Nancy was ecstatic. Malcolm's niece and nephew flung themselves at their uncle, and were lifted and spun around in turn.   
A bottle was cracked open........it was time to celebrate, as only the Scots can!   
Marie found herself in the centre of a chaotic maelstrom.   
People dropping by for drinks, everyone greeted with the same warm enthusiasm, a mad disorganised fiesta.   
It was quite astonishing, yet wonderful.   
Malcolm's sister was like him in many ways, ebullient, and a little brash, but kindly, genuine and welcoming.   
Marie didn't think that Malcolm could surprise her any more, but once again he proved her wrong.   
The earrings were a case in point, she cried when he gave them to her, no one had ever taken so much trouble over a gift for her before, something so poignant and personal. 

But this........this Malcolm.......he was different again. 

Relaxed, completely at ease, in the bosom of his family, lots of banter between brother and sister. Plenty of good natured ribbing.   
Although he saw them no more that twice a year probably, his niece and nephew clearly adored him, and it was not just that he bought them presents and spoiled them. It was much more than that.  
She was watching him now, in the garden, a rough and tumble, which started as a football match and degenerated into a game of tag.   
Screams and giggles, wails of laughter, laying on the ground in mock surrender as they pounced on him and pummelled. Cries of indignation.   
Yet he never spoke down to them, he addressed them as if they were smaller versions of adults.   
He was honest and truthful, she heard him answering their barrage of probing questions with a smile, but also a tear. Nancy heard him too, and came up behind Marie, touching her shoulder gently, smiling, and leaning in to give her another enveloping hug.   
All the Tuckers were nothing if not demonstrative!

"Uncle Malc......is she your girlfriend?" 

"Yep! She is!" 

"She's pretty! Do you love her? Like mum loves dad?" 

"Yes I do! And if I'm half as lucky as your parentals I'll be well chuffed!" 

"Are you going to get married?" 

"I don't know, love.......who knows these things! We're going on holidays first, to get to know each other, it's early days you see.....we've not known each other long." 

"If you get married, can we come?" 

"I'll be sure to send you an invite!" 

"I saw you kiss her.......like they do in the filums!"

"Yeah? Well, I like kissing her! When you love someone, you enjoy kissing them!" 

"She's nice Uncle Malc. And she smells lovely!" 

"Yep! She does."

"Are you staying tonight?"

"We're staying till after Hogmanay."

"You'll be in the spare room then.......you'll have to be careful.......the bed squeaks!" 

Malcolm tried to suppress a grin.

"Really?" 

"Yeah. When dads brother and Auntie Fiona stayed we could hear the bed squeaking all night. Dad said it was because they were very, very restless!" 

"Right! I'll have to remember that then......thanks for the tip." 

"No problem! I thought it was because they were having sex, but mum told me to shut up!" 

"Well, that's best I guess. Your Auntie Fiona might have been embarrassed!" 

"That's what dad said. So if you and Marie have sex, you'll have to do it quietly!" 

"I'll remember that! Thank you." 

Marie and Nancy dissolved into uncontrollable fits of laughter. 

oOo

New Year's Eve was much the same as the previous day. A constant stream of neighbours, friends and family trooping through the house.   
No one seemed to mind and everyone was invited in. Nancy kept producing food, seemingly from nowhere, no one was forgotten, everyone merry and happy.   
Marie mucked in and helped as much as she could, but there was no shortage of willing hands.  
No sooner was a meal finished than the plates were whisked away, things set to rights, an army of women at the sink washing up. The sound of the rich Glaswegian brogue very much in evidence. 

The men weren't left out, Nancy's husband Jim and Malcolm were just washing up and drying glasses when Marie joined them, deep in conversation. They broke off when she entered and Jim smiled to her.  
"So......you and Malc then? What's all that about, are you blind? Or just plain mad?" He grinned, nudging Malcolm with a wink.  
"Mad probably. I think we're both absolutely crackers actually!" She replied.  
"How did you meet exactly?" Jim asked, plunging more tumblers into the soapy water.  
"He had his head down the sink, throwing up! I was immediately attracted to him!"   
Jim roared with laughter, as did Malcolm. Nancy came in, with another tray of empties.  
"Nice! I can see how that would be alluring......what did he say to you?" His sister butted in.   
"If I recall it right........I think he told me to fuck off!" She chuckled.   
Malcolm gave a rueful grimace.   
"Typical!" Jim hooted. "Always the charmer!"   
"That's not fair!" Malcolm groaned. "You were horrible to me, you and Sam.....it was a conspiracy, you told me off.....good and proper!"   
"You told him off? Bloody hell! Let me shake you by the hand Marie.......it's a brave woman who tells Malcolm what to do.....or man for that matter!" Nancy linked her arm through Marie's good naturedly.   
"He hated my guts. Thought I was bossy and controlling! Well, I was, as it happens, but for his own good! I didn't think I'd get through any other way. I did kinda fancy him then, but I guess I didn't really acknowledge it at the time." She gave a bashful smile.  
"You never fucking told me that! When did you realise that then? I must have missed the signs! Fucking hell!" Malcolm smirked.  
"I'm not sure, maybe when we went to the Star Wars thing......" she paused as Nancy, tried to ask what on earth that was all about. "Long story.....Malc will tell it! Not my finest hour!! Or it might have been when you stuck up for me at Sam's party.....against Paul the Goomba." She blushed, and Malcolm came to her and gave her a hug, placing a kiss on her forehead.   
"Also not your finest hour!" He laughed.  
"What about you Malcolm, when did it hit you between the eyes?" Nancy asked, regarding her brother with a look of fond affection.   
"Fuck knows! When she came to the doctors with me I think. It was such a fucking great relief, I was sure I had the Big C, like Da, and I was fucking shitting myself, but she came with me and waited while I was seen, then took me for breakfast afterwards and talked me through stuff. And I thought, fuck, she's amazing! So, yeah.....then.....I guess."   
His eyes twinkled and he held on to her, his fingers playing absentmindedly with the sleeve of her jumper.   
Nancy had tears in her eyes. Quite overcome, to think her brother had been ill and scared and there was someone to be there with him, when she herself was so far away.  
"Nancy, don't start fucking blubbing! There's been enough of that lately......it's Hogmanay.....we're here for fun.....it's not a fucking funeral!" He drew his sister into the embrace, the three of them together.   
"I'm so happy Malcolm. Really. For you both. It's marvellous!" She beamed, wiping her eyes on her apron. 

oOo

They saw in the new year with music and fireworks and Auld Lang Syne.   
They went first footing. Marie had the time of her life. It was a new year celebration like nothing she'd ever experienced.   
As the midnight chimes sounded, Malcolm was suddenly at her side.   
He threaded his arms around her waist and pulled her into a deep kiss.   
"Happy New Year, my darling." He whispered, as all around them the party poppers exploded and cheers rang out.   
"This year is going to be very special. I know it is. For us both. Love you so fucking much!"   
Marie laid her head against the warmth of his chest for a second or two, then looked up at him.  
"Happy New Year Malcolm. I love you too. Whatever this year brings, I know it'll be wonderful, if we're together." 

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never bought to mind,   
Should auld acquaintance be forgot and auld lang syne.......  
For auld lang syne my dear, for auld lang syne,   
Well tak a cup o' kindness yet for auld lang syne......"


	28. Goodbye to All That.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come......the trip is on........Malc and Marie are heading off.......

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.  
GOODBYE TO ALL THAT. 

Malcolm sat on his bulging suitcase, so that he could zip it up.   
He'd said his goodbyes to his sister and her family the day after New Years Day. 

Nancy gave her brother an extra long and especially affectionate hug.   
He was the only blood family she had left and he'd been a constant worry to her, particularly most recently.   
"My dearest bro! Have a wonderful, wonderful time. And BE HAPPY!! Okay?"   
"I will Nance. WE will! We are gonna have the time of our lives......this is it, Nance. This is the one!"   
She kissed his cheek, fighting tears.   
"Keep in touch......a post card will do! Love you, you daft bugger!"   
"Will do! I promise. See you sis! And I love you too!"   
She stood on the station platform waving until the train was out of sight. 

oOo

"Right! Passports, currency, tickets! All done. You ready........?"

"Marie?" 

She was sitting on the sofa, and turned to look at him, her eyes were wet. 

"I can't believe the day is actually here. We're really doing this. I'm scared Malcolm!" 

"Marie......I'm scared too. Shit scared. But I fucking want this......I want you. I want us to be together, so, so much."

He knelt down in front of her and took her into his arms. 

"Sorry, Malcolm, I don't know what's got into me! An attack of the vapours!" 

"Once we're on our way, it'll be better. And you've said all your farewells to your mum and dad and Abi too. No going back now!" 

He kissed her, before continuing....

"I've never done anything like this before......and I never thought I would. I thought I'd always be manacled to that fucking desk. Till they peeled me off it and into a body bag! If you'd told me that this is where I'd be those few months ago, I wouldn't have believed you. It's fucking incredible.....it's mental! But I love it......I love you........but we need to go, if we're going.......the cab's here. Are you ready? Ready to take a massive, massive chance, on me.....on us?" 

She took his hand in her own.

"Yes........yes Malcolm, I am. Let's go!" 

oOo

They wound their way across the continent.  
Unhurried and unscheduled. They travelled where their whim took them. Booking a night or two ahead.

If they didn't care for the place, they moved on, if it pleased them they stayed. 

Exploring the cities, the countryside, journeying down through France. Hiring cars, taking trains.   
Visiting wineries, finding tiny cafes and restaurants, discovering hilltop monasteries, and beautiful chateaux.  
Crossing the Pyrenees into Spain, the Basque region, on to Madrid, Córdoba, immersed in the culture of the traditional Spain, away from the tourist routes. 

Through all the countries they visited, there was an unspoken destination, slowly, inexorably they headed for Italy.   
It was here they toured most widely. It was a love that was almost spiritual.   
Their very own Renaissance.   
Long days of beautiful sunlight, the sparkling blue of the sea. Rows of cypress trees dark green against the sky. Little fishing villages, cool white wine, wonderful fresh food. 

For Malcolm it was like being in a dream state. 

Many times he had to pinch himself.   
It was nuts that he was doing this, it was nuts that, against all possible odds, it was working out.  
Tensions were eased away. 

He wrote copiously. 

Reams and reams poured from him, such as never before, even in his journalist days.   
Articles, in the form of newsletters, which he emailed home for publication.   
They were lapped up. He had his own style, the public loved it.   
Open, honest, stark and witty.

The memoirs too, began jumping off the page, sparking and fizzing, as he tapped away relentlessly, and his document file grew.   
His Christmas present from Marie had been his portable tablet with an attachable keyboard.   
It really came into its own. 

Eventually they took a villa, an old converted farmhouse, and this is where they stayed. 

There was a small pool, a wide shady verandah, a little garden. Vineyard nearby. Sitting on the porch out of the hot sun, he could write, with a coffee at his elbow, his quick fire mind buzzing.   
There was a market, for fruit and vegetables. A small harbour for fish, straight from the boats.   
The village had a tiny bakery, a butcher's shop and several good watering holes, which were a pleasant stroll away on a balmy evening. 

They walked a lot.  
Hand in hand. 

They sometimes went to bed in the middle of the afternoon. 

There was a large tub, they bathed each other and they bathed together, he seated with his back to the blunt end, she between his legs, leaning into him.   
It was heaven. 

oOo

Sam and John, with the children, visited during the Easter holidays and spent a week with them.   
His former PA barely recognised her ex boss.   
Still lean, but he looked so well. It made her heart glad to see him thus.  
Once the children were tucked up in bed, they sat together in the twilight with lanterns lit, sharing a bottle of the local rosé, listening to the cicadas.   
Talking of old times. Shared stories, laughing a great deal. 

Malcolm struck up an unlikely friendship with the owner of the nearby vineyard, and his wife. He and Marie spent a great deal of time with them and their family over the months. The family's pet dog attached itself to the newcomers, turning up at the villa each morning. Malcolm was quite taken by the mutt, accompanying him for walks.......or rather he walked and the dog lolloped along in his wake. Padding alongside as he sauntered, hat pulled low on his head, hands in his pockets. Whistling occasionally to encourage it to follow.   
The result of this camaraderie was his purchase of a small stone cottage on the estate. He also invested in the vineyard itself, buying shares. It was something he'd always wanted to do, now he had.   
There was nothing whatever to stop him. 

Never in her waking life had Marie envisaged that she could be like this. Her anxiety over the trip and her fears about being in such close quarters, on a daily basis, with Malcolm, proved to be entirely unfounded.  
She felt a profound contentment.   
A feeling of complete security and total trust, that, frankly, astonished her. 

His humbling devotion, his deep admiration and sincerity, all culminated in a bond which quickly became unbreakable.   
There wasn't a moment she doubted him, he never gave her cause to worry.   
At times she almost found herself in tears, with the overwhelming power of it. 

It was true love. It was real. It worked.

He was essential to her, as no one had ever been in her life before, not any previous boyfriend, not even her ex husband.   
Although sometimes she could scarcely believe it. 

Sitting of an evening, his head in her lap, scratching his scalp absentmindedly with her fingernails, as she read her book. He hoped she didn't notice his own tears leaking out, with the sheer joy of it.   
Fuck if he could fathom why. 

He'd never be the same again. 

The months seemed to drift into one another.  
It was only tentatively that they discussed the possibility of returning to London.  
Malcolm had confessed that it crossed his mind, once or twice, but that he'd put it off.   
Now that she had mentioned it too, he guessed they should think seriously about it.   
They couldn't run away forever. Couldn't remain in this idyll, this haven of peace.  
Real life was catching up with them. 

It was with deep regret that Malcolm finally booked their flights home. 

There were certain things that Malcolm was now absolutely sure of. Things he'd have to address on his return.   
In his usual way, he began to think and plan, just as he had when he'd decided to resign.   
Nothing must be left to chance.   
He spoke at some length on the phone to Nancy.   
He and Marie hadn't spoken much about the future, they'd lived purely for the moment.   
That was coming to an end.   
He knew exactly what he wanted.   
It was right here in front of him, all he'd ever need, or could ever want. 

He held her hand tight as the plane took off.  
Heading homeward bound.  
She sighed deeply and leaned against his shoulder.  
"I'm so happy Malcolm." She whispered.


	29. Epilogue.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Marie have been settled back home for a month.......  
> Malcolm meets up with Sam for a regular coffee.........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. We've reached the end. 
> 
> I could quite easily have kept on and on with this story, but was painfully aware of retreading old ground and wanted very much to avoid that. The story has been finished for a while and I decided early on to let it stand. 
> 
> I'm already bereft without it! I've become very attached to this story and was loathe to end it. But.....end it must and I feel this is the best way. 
> 
> Being an old romantic I have to give Malcolm what I think he wants most. I don't think that will ever change! 
> 
> This story has been my most popular yet, and I am very grateful for that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.  
EPILOGUE. 

"Marie. MARIE!! Where the fuck are my car keys?" 

They'd been home just a month.  
Settling into a domestic harmony reminiscent of an old married couple. 

_"Fuck knows! Where you left them I expect!"_

"For fucks sake! Help me find them, I'm late!" 

_"Have you tried your pockets?"_

"First place I looked! Jesus! Have you had them?" 

_"Yes. Malcolm. I took the keys to your car.....which I never drive......and I thought 'hmmm these are Malc's keys, I think I'll move them and hide them where he can't find them!' "_

"Fucking sarcastic! I'm supposed to be at the meeting in half an hour. Shit!" 

_"Try the drawer in the kitchen......you shove them in there sometimes."_

"Looked there too! Help me look will you?" 

_"Malcolm! Here they are!"_

"Where?" 

_"In the drawer in the kitchen......where I said!"_

"But I looked there!" 

_"No.....you opened the drawer, then you closed it again. I LOOKED! They were under your credit card wallet!"_

"For fucks sake!! Thanks sweetie! I gotta dash!"

_"Erm!! Excuse me!! Forgetting something.......?"_

"Oh yeah! Sorry!" 

He planted a wet sloppy kiss on her puckered lips. 

"Love you, woman!" 

_"Love you too......idiot!"_

He was out of the door and gone. 

oOo

_"So......What's it like now you're home?"_

"Different!"

 _"Good different or bad different?"_

"Just different. There we had no agendas, no place to be at a certain time. No mobile phone ringing every five minutes......all that shit!" 

_"It's called reality Malcolm, welcome back to it!!"_

He and Sam sat in the little independent Italian coffee shop, where they frequently met up.  
Since his return they made it a regular thing.  
The waiter amused them, he thought they were having a clandestine 'Brief Encounter' style affair, and made comments to that effect. Older man, younger woman, stolen moments across the table, that kind of thing. It was hilarious. 

_"So what's next?"_

"Oh, fuck Sam.....you know what's next!" 

_"Do I?"_

"Of course you fucking do......don't give me that look! I DO THAT LOOK! I want to ask her to marry me! There! I said it! Happy now?" 

_"Okay.....not a surprise......when?"_

"Fuck knows! I gotta grow some balls, go down on one knee.....get on with it......fucking pathetic! I bought the ring ages ago. But the moment just hasn't been right."

_"Do it. Malcolm......ask her. You were the Dark Lord of Downing Street! Asking a woman to be your wife should be a walk in the park for you!"_

"Fuck! Dunno about that! I've gone fucking soft in the head since I've been with her!" 

_"It's called love Malcolm. And you are head over heels! That's obvious to everyone. Have you told anyone else?"_

"I spoke to Nance about it. Just before we left Italy. She's expecting a fucking announcement daily!" 

_"Then get on with it! Stop prevaricating!"_

"Yeah! Right! Okay!.........I guess......."

oOo

The following week, Malcolm was waiting impatiently for Marie to return from visiting her parents.  
He paced.  
He was a fucking fool.  
Not right in the head.  
All day he felt sick. Fucking ridiculous. 

Her car.......she was here.  
Steel yourself Malcolm! You can fucking do this.......

Shit! He was crapping breeze blocks.  
Coward. Yellow, right through to the core. 

He walked out into the hallway to meet her. 

"Hi sweetie!" 

Oh shit......she looked upset.......Christ!  
Okay.....fucking bad timing.........change of plan....... _abort, abort, abort!!_

"What's wrong? Are mum and dad okay?" He made to put his arms around her, but she backed away. Her bottom lip wobbling. 

"What the fuck's happened?" 

"Mum and Dad are fine." She whispered. "I left them over an hour ago." 

"Then what is it?" 

"I don't know how to say this. Maybe you should sit down." She took two deep breaths.  
"Fuck it all! Malcolm!"........and started to cry.......hard.......tears dripping off the end of her nose. 

He lowered himself onto the couch beside her, a look of fear passing over his features, his happy thoughts of a few moments ago banished entirely. 

"What the fuck is it? You're really fucking scaring me now!" 

_"I've just come back from the Doctor's surgery........"_

"Oh FUCK! You're not ill are you? Tell me......for fucks sake, what is it? Just tell me! Shit! Shit!" He sucked in air, trying to maintain control, as impending doom seemed to close in on him. 

_"No Malcolm! I'm not ill.............I'm pregnant!"_

Silence.................

Then an explosion. An air burst of incredulity. 

"You're.......no! Not possible! Fuck off!"

_"Yeah. I am. It's confirmed."_

Longer silence..............

_"Well, say something for fucks sake. I'm dying a thousand deaths here!"_

His befuddled brain refused to process. 

"But.......I don't understand........I mean........how?" 

_"Fuck me, Malcolm, I think even you can work out the logistics......I mean, we've not exactly been holding back on the practical........nor have we been particularly careful........the point is.........what do you think......?"_

"Fuck!" 

_"My sentiments exactly.......but good fuck.......or bad fuck?"_

Malcolm tried to make sense of the confusion he felt. 

He simply couldn't.

At a loss. 

"But you're......."

_"Yes......I'm Forty.Fucking.One........I say again.......good fuck or bad fuck?.....Malcolm......please!"_

"It's **THE** best fucking fuck there is!! On a scale of one to fuck......fuck being the highest......this is fuckety fucking fuck!! But........"

_"But what?"_

"Is it dangerous....for you I mean? I can't fucking lose you.....not for a child, not for anything.......I mean.....I'm not an expert.......but, your age.......my age.......holy shit!" 

_"I've been checked over......Doctor doesn't seem at all concerned, says I'm very fit, he's offered me a test for Down's but if I have it, there's a risk......."_

"A risk......what risk?" 

_"A risk I might lose it......it doesn't mean I will, but it's there. They do an amniocentesis, taking fluid from around the baby.......sometimes it causes miscarriage."_

"Fuck!"

_"Again......I'm going to need more from you Malcolm.........fuck yes......or fuck no?"_

"Honestly? Fuck no.......can't take the chance......."

He placed his hand gently over her stomach, splaying his long fingers with a possessive tenderness, mouth quivering, raising his silently weeping eyes to hers. A glance of mixed bewilderment and pure adoration.  
She breathed out a huge sigh of relief. 

_"Thank God you said that!"_

"You don't want to have the test?"

She began to sob, but in an almost euphorically hysterical, happy way.

_"No! I don't. Because it's a risk I'm not prepared to take........I just want to have this baby.......your baby........OUR baby.......and take a chance that it'll be okay.........fuck........Malcolm.........hold me for fucks sake........I feel like my chest is going to burst....."_

He clung on to her like a drowning man, they sat thus for well over an hour, all thoughts of his impending question blown away with this bombshell. He was in meltdown. Delirious with shock and unbridled joy. 

He was going to be a father. 

It was unbe-fucking-lievable. 

As long as Marie would be okay, who gave a fuck about anything else? 

 

oOo

**"THE MORNING HERALD"......**

_**Births, Marriages and Deaths........** _

_Tucker/ Williams._  
To Malcolm and Marie. On the 12th May, at The Portland Maternity Wing. A son. Angus Malcolm. Weighing 7lbs 3oz. A step-brother for Abigail and Simon. Mother and baby doing well." 

oOo

**"THE MORNING HERALD".......**

_**Births, Marriages and Deaths.......** _

_Tucker/Williams._  
At 2.30pm, 16th October at St Peter's Italian Church, Clerkenwell.  
Marie Pamela Williams, 42, Economist, daughter of George and Pamela Williams, formerly of Yorkshire, to Malcolm James Tucker, 49, freelance writer for The Guardian, son of James and Nancy Tucker, (deceased) of Glasgow.  
The families and close friends of the bride and groom attended a reception held near Covent Garden after the ceremony. " 

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish to thank everyone who has read this and left kudos. And a particular thank you to those who have commented, either once or regularly when I've updated chapters.  
> Comments and encouragement are a huge bonus to a writer, and I ALWAYS reply to anyone who has taken the trouble to send me their views. You are all very kind and it is great appreciated. Xxx


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